hbl,  stx 


PZ        3.L775E 
Etidorhpa:  or,  The  end  of  earth. 


3    T1S3    DD74ED37    7J 


t>3 


K,/V^7, 


3 


A^^M  ^/^l.^ 


«6^«-^ 


ETIDORHPA 


THE  END  OF  EARTH. 


THE  STRANGE   HISTORY  OF  A  MYSTERIOUS  BEING 


The  Account  of  a  Remarkable  Journey 

AS  COMMUNICATED    IN  MANUSCRIPT  TO 

IvLEWKLIvYN     DRURY 

WHO  PROMISED  TO  PRINT  THE  SAME,   BUT  FINALLY  EVADED  THE  RESPONSIBILITY 


WHICH    WAS    ASSUMED    BY 

JOHN    UR.I    LLOYD 


WITH    MANY    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

J.     AUGUSTUS      KNAPP 


SECOND    EDITION 


THE  ROBERT  CLARKE  COMPANY 
CINCINNATI 


ASCRIPTION 


To  Prof.  W.  H.  Venable,  who  reviewed  the  manuscript  of  this 
work,  I  am  indebted  for  many  valuable  suggestions,  and  I  can  not 
speak  too  kindly  of  him  as  a  critic. 

The  illustrations,  excepting  those  mechanical  and  historical,  mak- 
ing in  themselves  a  beautiful  narrative  without  words,  are  due  to  the 
admirable  artistic  conceptions  and  touch  of  Mr.  J.  Augustus  Knapp. 

Structural  imperfections  as  well  as  word  selections  and  phrases 
that  break  all  rules  in  composition,  and  that  the  care  even  of  Prof. 
Venable  could  not  eradicate,  I  accept  as  whoUj'  my  own.  For  much, 
on  the  one  hand,  that  it  may  seem  should  have  been  excluded,  and 
on  the  other,  for  giving  place  to  ideas  nearer  to  empiricism  than  to 
science,  I  am  also  responsible.  For  vexing  my  friends  with  problems 
that  seemingly  do  not  concern  in  the  least  men  in  my  position,  and  for 
venturing  to  think,  superficially,  it  may  be,  outside  the  restricted  lines 
of  a  science  bound  to  the  unresponsive  crucible  and  retort,  to  which 
my  life  has  been  given,  and  amid  the  problems  of  which  it  has  nearly 
worn  itself  away,  I  have  no  plausible  excuse,  and  shall  seek  none. 

JOHN  URI  LLOYD. 


Copyrighted,  1S95,  by  John  Uri  Lloyd 
Copyrighted,  1896,  by  John  Uri  Lloyd 


PRESSWORK    and  BINDING    BY  CRANSTON   &   CURTS,  ClNCINNAlT 


J'^ 


PREFACE 


B 


OOKS  are  as  tombstones  made 
by  the  living  for  the  living,  but 
destined  soon  only  to  remind  ns 
of  the  dead.  The  preface,  like 
an  epitaph,  seems  vainly  to  "  im- 
plore the  passing  tribute"  of  a 
moment's  interest.  No  man  is 
allured  by  either  a  grave-inscrip- 
tion or  a  preface,  unless  it  be 
accompanied  by  that  ineffable 
charm  which  age  casts  over  mor- 
tal productions.  Libraries,  in 
one  sense,  represent  cemeteries, 
and  the  rows  of  silent  volumes, 
with  tneir  dim  titles,  suggest 
burial  tablets,  many  of  which, 
alas!  mark  only  cenotaphs  — 
empty  tombs.  A  modern 
book,  no  matter  how  talented 
the  author,  carries  with  it  a 


PREFACE. 


familiar  personality  wliich  may  often  be  treated  with  neglect  or 
even  contempt,  but  a  volume  a  century  old  demands  some 
reverence ;  a  vellum-bound  or  hog-skin  print,  or  antique  yellow 
parchment,  two,  three,  five  hundred  years  old,  regardless  of  its 
contents,  impresses  one  with  an  indescribable  feeling  akin  to  awe 
and  veneration, — as  does  the  wheat  from  an  Eg}'ptian  tomb,  even 

though  it  be  onl)-  wheat. 
We  take  such  a  work  from 
the  shelf  carefully,  and 
replace  it  gently.  WTiile 
the  productions  of  mod- 
ern writers  are  handled 
familiarly,  as  men  living 
jostle  men  yet  alive ;  those 
of  authors  long  dead  are 
touched  as  tho'  clutched 
by  a  hand  from  the  unseen 
world ;  the  reader  feels 
that  a  phantom  form 
opposes  his  own,  and 
that  spectral  eyes  scan 
the  pages  as  he  turns 
them. 

The  stern  face,  the 
penetrating  eye  of  the 
personage  whose  likeness 
forms  the  frontispiece  of 
the  yellowed  volume  in  my  hand,  speak  across  the  gulf  of  two 
centuries,  and  bid  me  beware.  The  title  page  is  read  with  rever- 
ence, and  the  great  tome  is  replaced  wdth  care,  for  an  almost 
superstitious  sensation  bids  me  be  cautious  and  not  offend.  Let 
those  who  presume  to  criticise  the  intellectual  productions  of 
such  men  be  careful;  in  a  few  days  the  dead  will  face  their 
censors — dead. 

Standing  in  a  library  of  antiquated  works,  one  senses  the 
shadows  of  a  cemetery.  Each  volume  adds  to  the  oppression, 
each  old  tome  casts  the  influence  of  its  spirit  over  the  beholder, 
for  have  not  these  old  books  spirits?  The  earth-grave  covers  the 
mind  as  well  as  the  body  of  its  moldering  occupant,  and  while 


Tllli  STEKX  lACi: 


ACROSS  Tin: 


PREFACE. 


only  a  strong  im- 
agination can  as- 
sume that  a  spirit 
hovers  over  and 
lingers  around  in- 
animate cla}',  here 
each  title  is  a 
voice  that  speaks 
as  though  the  heart 
of  its  creator  still 
throbbed,  the  mind 
essence  of  the 
dead  writer  envel- 
ops the  living 
reader.  Take  down 
that  vellum-bound 
volume,  —  it  was 
written  in  one  of 
the  centuries  long 
past.  The  pleasant 
face  of  its  creator, 
as  fresh  as  if  but  a 
print  of  yesterday, 
smiles  upon  }'ou 
from  the  exquis- 
itely engraved  cop- 
per-plate frontispiece ;  the  mind  of  the  author  rises  from  out  the 
words  before  you.  This  man  is  not  dead  and  his  comrades  live. 
Turn  to  the  shelves  about,  before  each  book  stands  a  guardian 
spirit, —  together  they  form  a  phantom  army  that,  invisible  to 
mortals,  encircles  the  beholder. 

Ah !  this  antique  library  is  not  as  is  a  church  graveyard,  onh- 
a  cemetery  for  the  dead  ;  it  is  also  a  mansion  for  the  living.  These 
alcoves  are  trysting  places  for  eleinental  shades.  Essences  of  dis- 
enthralled minds  meet  here  and  revel.  Thoughts  of  the  past  take 
shape  and  live  in  this  atmosphere, — who  can  say  that  pulsations 
iinperceived,  beyond  the  reach  of  physics  or  of  chemistrv',  are  not 
as  ethereal  mind-seeds  which,  although  unseen,  yet,  in  living  brain, 
exposed    to   such    an    atmosphere  as  this,   formulate   embryotic 


"  THE  PLEASANT  FACE  OF  ITS  CREATOR 


SMILES  UPON  YOtr. 


PREFACE. 


thought-expressions  des- 
tined to  become  ener- 
getic intellectual  forces? 
I  sit  in  such  a  weird  li- 
brary' and  meditate.  The 
shades  of  grim  authors 
whisper  in  my  ear,  skel- 
eton forms  oppose  my 
own,  and  phantoms  pos- 
sess the  gloomy  alcoves 
of  the  librar)'  I  am 
building. 

With  the  object  of 
carrying  to  the  future  a 
section  of  thought  cur- 
rent from  the  past,  the 
antiquarian  libraries  of 
many  nations  have  been 
culled,  and  purchases 
made  in  ever}'  book 
market  of  the  world. 
These  books  surround  me.  Naturally  many  persons  have  become 
interested  in  the  movement,  and,  considering  it  a  worthy  one, 
unite  to  further  the  project,  for  the  purpose  is  not  personal 
gain.  Thus  it  is  not  unusual  for  boxes  of  old  chemical  or  phar- 
macal  volumes  to  arrive  by  freight  or  express,  without  a  word  as  to 
the  donor.  The  mail  brings  manuscripts  imprinted,  and  pamphlets 
recondite,  with  no  word  of  introduction.  They  come  unheralded. 
The  authors  or  the  senders  realize  that  in  this  unique  library  a 
place  is  vacant  if  any  work  on  connected  subjects  is  missing,  and 
thinking  men  of  the  world  are  uniting  their  contributions  to  fill 
such  vacancies. 


SKELETON   FORMS  OPPOSE  MY  OWN. 


Enough  has  been  said  concerning  the  ancient  library  that  has 
bred  these  reflections,  and  my  own  personality  does  not  concern 
the  reader.  He  can  now  formulate  his  conclusions  as  well  perhaps 
as  I,  regarding  the  origin  of  the  manuscript  that  is  to  follow,  if  he 
concerns  himself  at  all  over  subjects  mysterious  or  historical,  and 


PREFACE.  vii. 

my  connection  therewith  is  of  minor  importance.  Whether  Mr. 
Drnry  bronght  the  strange  paper  in  person,  or  sent  it  by  express  or 
mail, — whether  it  was  slipped  into  a  box  of  books  from  foreign 
lands,  or  whether  my  hand  held  the  pen  that  made  the  record, — 
whether  I  stood  face  to  face  with  Mr.  Drnry  in  the  shadows  of 
this  room,  or  have  but  a  fanciful  conception  of  his  figure, — 
whether  the  artist  drew  upon  his  imagination  for  the  vivid  like- 
ness of  the  several  personages  figured  in  the  book  that  follows, 
or  from  reliable  data  has  given  fac-similes  authentic, — is  imma- 
terial. Sufficient  be  it  to  say  that  the  manuscript  of  this  book 
has  been  in  my  possession  for  a  period  of  seven  years,  and  my 
lips  must  now  be  sealed  concerning  all  that  transpired  in  con- 
nection therewith  outside  the  subject-matter  recorded  therein. 
And  yet  I  can  not  deny  that  for  these  seven  years  I  have  hesi- 
tated concerning  my  proper  course,  and  more  than  once  have 
decided  to  cover  from  sight  the  fascinating  leaflets,  hide  them 
among  surrounding  volumes,  and  let  them  slumber  until  chance 
should  bring  them  to  the  attention  of  the  future  student. 

These  thoughts  rise  before  me  this  gloomy  day  of  December, 
1894,  as,  snatching  a  moment  from  the  exactions  of  business,  I 
sit  among  these  old  volumes  devoted  to  science-lore,  and  again 
study  over  the  unique  manuscript,  and  meditate;  I  hesitate 
again:  Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not? — but  a  duty  is  a  duty.  Perhaps 
the  mysterious  part  of  the  subject  will  be  cleared  to  me  only 
when  my  own  thought-words  come  to  rest  among  these  vener- 
able relics  of  the  past — when  books  that  I  have  written  become 
companions  of  ancient  works  about  me — for  then  I  can  claim 
relationship  with  the  shadows  that  flit  in  and  out,  and  can  de- 
mand that  they,  the  ghosts  of  the  library,  commune  with  the 
shade  that  guards  the  book  that  holds  this  preface. 

JOHN  URI  LLOYD. 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION. 


That  a  pressing  demand  for  a  second  edition  of  Etidorhpa 
should  be  made  before  the  first  edition  (1,299  copies)  had  been 
entirely  distributed,  is  unexpected.  That  the  most  urgent  solic- 
itations for  a  new  edition  should  come  from  the  readers  of  the 
first  edition  is  also  not  less  gratifying  than  are  the  hundreds  of 
cordial  letters  that  have  been  written  the  undersigned  by  these 
readers.  Realizing  fully  the  unconventionality  of  the  book, 
which  touches  upon  so  many  phases  of  life  and  belief,  and 
which,  in  many  directions,  suggests  such  diverse  opportunities 
for  differences  in  faith  and  speculation,  thus  admitting  of  (per- 
haps inviting)  unfriendly  criticism,  the  writer  can  not  but  feel 
that  its  kindly  reception  is  more  than  complimentary.  Indeed, 
realizing  that  the  nature  of  the  work  precludes  the  elaboration 
due  by  courtesy  to  men  concerned  in  exact  science  lines  ;  that 
book  references  are  impossible ;  that  the  unrecorded  phases  of 
many  subjects  necessarily  brighten  many  speculations  that,  if 
both  sides  were  perceived,  would  be  less  tenable,  the  writer  of  this 
can  not  but  appreciate  that  his  readers  have  carried  professional 
and  friendly  courtesy  to  the  limit,  of  critical  generosity. 

Had  the  consensus  of  opinion  of  persons  whose  views  are 
valued  been  otherwise  than  kindly;  had  their  decision  been  to 
the  effect  that  Etidorhpa  could  lead  to  one  impure  thought  or 
to  any  trifling  conception  of  life  or  duty,  sufficient  inducement 
could  not  have  been  offered  for  the  issuing  of  a  second  edition. 

Since  Etidorhpa  was  not  printed  for  personal  gain,  it  is  but 

just  that  each  purchaser  should  be  advised  of  the  fact  that  the 

profit,  if  any  accrue,  will  be  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  library 

in  which  these  lines  are  penned,  and  thus  be  devoted  to  public 

educational  purposes. 

J.  r.  L. 


A  VALUABLE  AND  UNIQUE  LIBRARY. 


From  the  Pharmaceutical  Era,  New  York,  October,  i8 


In  Cincinnati  is  one  of  the  most  famous  botanical  and  pharmacal  libraries 
in  the  world,  and  by  scientists  it  is  regarded  as  an  invaluable  store  of  knowl- 
edge upon  those  branches  of  medical  science.  So  famous  is  it  that  one  of  the 
most  noted  pharmacologists  and  chemists  of  Germany,  on  a  recent  trip  to  this 
country,  availed  himself  of  its  rich  collection  as  a  necessary  means  of  complet- 
ing his  study  in  the  line  of  special  drug  history.  When  it  is  known  that  he 
has  devoted  a  life  of  nearly  eighty  years  to  the  study  of  pharmacology,  and  is 
an  emeritus  professor  in  the  famous  University  of  Strassburg,  the  importance 
of  his  action  will  be  understood  and  appreciated.  We  refer  to  Prof.  Frederick 
Flueckiger,  who,  in  connection  with  Daniel  Hanbury,  wrote  Pharmacographia 
and  other  standard  works.  Attached  to  the  library  is  an  herbarium,  begun 
by  Mr.  Curtis  Gates  Lloyd  when  a  schoolboy,  in  which  are  to  be  found  over 
30,000  specimens  of  the  flora  of  almost  every  civilized  country  on  the  globe. 
The  collections  are  the  work  of  two  brothers,  begun  when  in  early  boyhood. 
In  money  they  are  priceless,  yet  it  is  the  intention  of  the  founders  that  they 
shall  be  placed,  either  before  or  at  their  death,  in  some  college  or  university 
where  all  students  may  have  access  to  them  without  cost  or  favor,  and  their 
wills  are  already  made  to  this  end,  although  the  institution  to  receive  the  be- 
quest is  not  yet  selected.  Eager  requests  have  been  made  that  they  be  sent 
to  foreign  universities,  where  only,  some  persons  believe,  they  can  receive  the 
appreciation  they  deserve. 

The  resting  place  of  this  collection  is  a  neat  three-story  house  at  204  West 
Court  street,  rebuilt  to  serve  as  a  library  building.  On  the  door  is  a  plate 
embossed  with  the  name  Lloyd,  the  patronymic  of  the  brothers  in  question. 
They  are  John  Uri  and  Curtis  Gates  Lloyd.  Every  hour  that  can  be  spent  by 
these  men  from  business  or  necessary  recreation  is  spent  here.  Mr.  C.  G. 
Lloyd  devotes  himself  entirely  to  the  study  of  botany  and  connected  subjects, 
while  his  brother  is  equally  devoted  to  materia  medica,  pharmacy,  and 
chemistry. 

In  the  botanical  department  are  the  best  works  obtainable  in  every  coun- 
try, and  there  the  study  of  botany  may  be  carried  to  any  height.  In  point  of 
age,  some  of  them  go  back  almost  to  the  time  when  the  art  of  printing  was 
discovered.  Two  copies  of  Aristotle  are  notable.  A  Greek  version  bound  in 
vellum  was  printed  in  1584.  Another,  in  parallel  columns  of  Greek  and  Latin, 
by  Pacius,  was  published  in  1607.  Both  are  in  excellent  preservation.  A 
bibliographical  rarity  (two  editions)  is  the  "  Historia  Plantarum,"  by  Pinaeus, 
which  was  issued,  one  in  1561,  the  other  in  1567.  It  appears  to  have  been  a 
first  attempt  at  the  production  of  colored  plates.  Plants  that  were  rare  at  that 
time  are  colored  by  hand,  and  then  have  a  glossy,  fixative  spread  over  them, 
causing  the  colors  still  to  be  as  bright  and  fresh  as  the  day  that  the  three- 
hundred-years-dead  workmen  laid  them  on.  Ranged  in  their  sequence  are 
fifty  volumes  of  the  famous  author,  Linnaeus.  Mr.  Lloyd  has  a  very  complete 
list  of  the  Linneean  works,  and  his  commissioners  in  Europe  and  America  are 

xi. 


xii.  A  VALUABLE  AND  UNIQUE  LIBRARY. 

looking  out  for  the  missing  volumes.  An  extremely  odd  work  is  the  book  of 
Dr.  Josselyn,  entitled  "New  England  Rarities,"  in  which  the  Puritan  author 
discusses  wisely  on  "byrds,  beastes  and  fishes"  of  the  New  World.  Dr.  Caro- 
lus  Plumierus,  a  French  savant,  who  flourished  in  1762,  contributes  an  exhaustive 
work  on  the  "  Flora  of  the  Antilles."  He  is  antedated  many  years,  however,  by 
Dr.  John  Clayton,  who  is  termed  Johannes  Claytonus,  and  Dr.  John  Frederick 
Gronovius.  These  gentlemen  collated  a  work  entitled  the  "Flora  of  Virginia," 
which  is  among  the  first  descriptions  of  botany  in  the  United  States.  Two 
venerable  works  are  those  of  Mattioli,  an  Italian  writer,  who  gave  his  knowl- 
edge to  the  world  in  1586,  and  Levinus  Lemnius,  who  wrote  "De  Miraculis 
Occultis  Naturae"  in  1628.  The  father  of  modern  systematized  botany  is  con- 
ceded to  be  Mons.  J.  P.  Tournefort,  whose  comprehensive  work  was  published 
in  1719.  It  is  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Lloyd  to  possess  an  original  edition  in  good 
condition.  His  "Histoire  des  Plantes,"  Paris  (169S),  is  also  on  the  shelves.  In 
the  modern  department  of  the  library  are  the  leading  French  and  German 
works.  Spanish  and  Italian  authors  are  also  on  the  shelves,  the  Lloyd  collec- 
tion of  Spanish  flora  being  among  the  best  extant.  Twenty-two  volumes  of 
rice  paper,  bound  in  bright  yellow  and  stitched  in  silk,  contain  the  flora  of 
Japan.  All  the  leaves  are  delicately  tinted  by  those  unique  flower-painters, 
the  Japanese.  This  rare  work  was  presented  to  the  Lloyd  library  by  Dr. 
Charles  Rice,  of  New  York,  who  informed  the  Lloyds  that  only  one  other  set 
could  be  found  in  America. 

One  of  the  most  noted  books  in  the  collection  of  J.  U.  Lloyd  is  a  Materia 
Medica  written  by  Dr.  David  Schoepf,  a  learned  German  scholar,  who  traveled 
through  this  country  in  1787.  But  a  limited  number  of  copies  were  printed, 
and  but  few  are  extant.  One  is  in  the  Erlangen  library  in  Germany.  This 
Mr.  Lloyd  secured,  and  had  it  copied  verbatim.  In  later  years  Dr.  Charles 
Rice  obtained  an  original  print,  and  exchanged  it  for  that  copy.  A  like  work 
is  that  of  Dr.  Jonathan  Carver  of  the  provincial  troops  in  America,  published 
in  London  in  1796.  It  treats  largely  of  Canadian  materia  medica.  Manasseh 
Cutler's  work,  1785,  also  adorns  this  part  of  the  library.  In  addition  to  al- 
most every  work  on  this  subject,  Mr.  Lloyd  possesses  complete  editions  of  the 
leading  serials  and  pharmaceutical  lists  published  in  the  last  three  quarters 
of  a  century.  Another  book,  famous  in  its  way,  is  Barton's  "Collections 
Toward  a  Materia  Medica  of  the  United  States,"  published  in  1798,  1801, 
and  1804. 

Several  noted  botanists  and  chemists  have  visited  the  library  in  recent 
years.  Prof.  Flueckiger  formed  the  acquaintance  of  the  Lloyds  through  their 
work,  "Drugs  and  Medicines  of  North  America,"  being  struck  bj'  the  exhaust- 
ive references  and  foot-notes.  Students  and  lovers  of  the  old  art  of  copper- 
plate engraving  especially  find  much  in  the  ornate  title  pages  and  portraits  to 
please  their  aesthetic  sense.  The  founders  are  not  miserly,  and  all  students 
and  delvers  into  the  medical  and  botanical  arts  are  always  welcome.  This 
library  of  rare  books,  has  been  collected  without  ostentation  and  with  the 
sole  aim  to  benefit  science  and  humanity.  We  must  not  neglect  to  state 
that  the  library  is  especially  rich  in  books  pertaining  to  the  American  Eclectics 
and  Thomsonians.  Since  it  has  been  learned  that  this  library  is  at  the  dis- 
posal of  students  and  is  to  pass  intact  to  some  worthy  institution  of  learn- 
ing, donations  of  old  or  rare  books  are  becoming  frequent. 


CONTKNTS. 


PAGE. 

Prologue — History  of  Llewellyn  Drury, 1 

CHAPTER. 

I.     Home  of  Llewellyn  Drnry — "  Never  Less  Alone  than  When  Alone,"  3 

II.     A  Friendly  Conference  with  Prof.  Chickering, .  16 

III.  A  Second  Interview  with  the  Mysterious  Visitor, 23 

IV.  A  Search  for  Knowledge — The  Alchemistic  Letter, 35 

V.     The  Writing  of  "My  Confession," 44 

VI.     Kidnapped, 46 

VII.     A  Wild  Night— I  am  Prematurely  Aged, 55 

VIIL     A  Lesson  in  Mind  Study, 63 

IX.     I  Can  Not  Establish  My  Identity, 67 

X.     My  Journe}'  Towards  the  End  of  Earth  Begins — The  Adepts  Broth- 
erhood,    74 

XI.     My  Journej-  Continues — Instinct, '.    .  80 

XII.     A  Cavern  Discovered — BiswelTs  Hill, 84 

XIII.  The  Punch  Bowls  and  Caverns  of  Kentucky — "Into  the  Unknown 

Country," 89 

XIV.  Farewell  to  God's  Sunshine— "  The  Echo  of  the  Cry," 99 

XV.     A  Zone  of  Light,  Deep  Within  the  Earth, 105 

XVI.     Vitalized  Darkness — The  Narrows  in  Science, 109 

XVII.     The  Fungus  Forest — Enchantment, 119 

XVIII.     The  Food  of  Man, 123 

XIX.     The    Cry    from    a   Distance — I    Rebel    Against    Continuing  the 

Journey, 128 

FIRST  INTERLUDE. — THE   NARRATIVE   INTERRUPTED. 
XX.     My  Unbidden  Guest   Proves   His    Statements,  and  Refutes  My 

Philosophy, 134 

MY   UNBIDDEN   GUEST   CONTINUES    HIS   M.\NUSCRIPT. 

XXI.     My  W^eight  Disappearing, 142 

I 

SECOND    INTERLUDE. 

XXII.     The  Story  Again  Interrupted— My  Guest  Departs, 149 

XXIII.  Scientific  Men  Questioned — Aristotle's  Ether, 151 

XXIV.  The  Soliloquy  of  Prof.  Daniel  Vaughn — "Gravitation  is  the  Be- 

ginning   and   Gravitation    is   the    End :    All  Earthly  Bodies 

Kneel  to  Gravitation," 15<> 

xiii 


CONTEXTS. 


CHAI'TEK. 

XXV. 


XXVI. 
XXVII. 


XXVIII. 
XXIX. 


XXX. 


XXXI. 

XXXII. 
XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 
XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XIvI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 

XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 

XIvVII. 
XLVIII. 

XLIX. 
L. 

LI. 

LII. 
EPII.OGUE 


THE    VNBIDDEN    GUEST    RETURNS   TO   READ   HIS   MANU- 
SCRIPT,  CONTINUING   THE   N.\RR.\TIVE.  p^^-g 
The  Mother  of  a  Volcano — "You  Can  Not  Disprove,  and  Vou 

Dare  Not  Admit," 162 

Motion  from  Inherent  Energy — "  Lead   Me  Deeper  Into  this 

Expanding  Study," 169 

Sleep,  Dreams,  Nightmare—"  Strangle  the  Life  from  My  Body,"    175 

THIRD    INTERLUDE. — THE   NARRATIVE   AGAIN   INTER- 
RUPTED. 

A  Challenge — My  Unbidden  Guest  Accepts  It, 179 

Beware  of  Biolog}- — The  Science  of  the  Life  of  Man — The  Old 

Man  relates  a  Story  as  an  Object  Lesson, 186 

Looking  Backward — The  Living  Brain, 193 

THE   MANUSCRIPT   CONTINUED. 
A  Lesson  on  Volcanoes — Primary  Colors  are  Capable  of  Farther 

Subdivision, 204 

Matter  is  Retarded  Motion — "A  Wail  of  Sadness  Inexpressible,"  218 
"A  Study  of  True  Science  is  a  Study  of  God" — Communing 

with  Angels, 224 

I  Cease  to  Breathe,  and  Yet  Live, 226 

"A  Certain  Point  Within  a  Circle" — Men  are  as  Parasites  on 

the  Roof  of  Earth, 230 

The  Drinks  of  Man, 235 

The  Drunkard's  Voice, 238 

The  Drunkard's  Den, 240 

Among  the  Drunkards, 247 

Further  Temptation — Etidorhpa   Appears, 252 

Misery, 262 

Eternity  Without  Time, 272 

FOURTH   INTERLUDE. 

The  Last  Contest, 277 

THE  NARRATIVE  CONTINUED. 

The  Fathomless  Abyss— The  Edge  of  the  Earth's  Shell,  ...  306 

My  Heart-throb  is  Stilled,  and  Yet  I  Live 310 

The  Inner  Circle,  or  the  End  of  Gravitation — In  the  Bottom- 
less Gulf, 317 

Hearing  Without  Ears— "What  Will  Be  the  End?" :;l'2 

Wh}-  and   How — The   Straggling  Ray  of   Light    from   those 

Farthermost  Outreaches, 327 

Oscillating  Through  Space— The  Earth  Shell  Above  Us,    .    .  333 
My  Weight  Annihilated — "Tell  me,"  I  cried  in  alarm,  "is  this 

a  Living  Tomb?" 340 

Is  That  a  Mortal  ?— "  The  End  of  Earth," 345 

FIFTH   INTERLUDE. 

The  Last  Farewell, 352 

—Letter  Accompanying  the  Mysterious  Manuscript 3()0 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE. 

111. 

7,8. 

29 

,30. 

35 

,36. 

Ui- 

85 

,86. 

95 

,96. 

lOI, 

102. 

117. 

118. 

131. 

132. 

147, 

148. 

Frontispiece — Likeness  of  The — Man — Who — Did — It. 

Preface  Introduction — "  Here  lies  the  bones,"  etc. 

"  And  to  my  amazement,  saw  a  white-haired  man." 

"The  same  glittering,  horrible,  mysterious  knife." 

"Fac-simile  of  the  mysterious  manuscript  of  I — Am — The — Man — 

Who— Did—It. 
"My  arms  were  firmly  grasped  by  two  persons." 
"  Map  of  Kentucky  near  entrance  to  cavern." 
"  Confronted  by  a  singular  looking  being." 
"This  struggling  ray  of  sunlight  is  to  be  your  last  for  years." 
"  I  was  in  a  forest  of  colossal  fungi." 
"  Monstrous  cubical  crystals." 
"  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  glassy  barrier  spread  as  a  crystal 

mirror." 
157,  158.     "Soliloquy  of  Prof.  Daniel  Vaughn — 'Gravitation  is  the  beginning, 

and  gravitation  is  the  end ;  all  earthly  bodies  kneel  to  gravitation." " 
"We  came  to  a  metal  boat." 

"  Facing  the  open  window  he  turned  the  pupils  of  his  eyes  upward." 
"  We  finally  reached  a  precipitous  bluff." 

"The  wall  descended  perpendicularly  to  seemingly  infinite  depths." 
Etidorhpa. 

"  We  passed  through  caverns  filled  with  creeping  reptiles." 
"Flowers  and  structures  beautiful,  insects  gorgeous." 
"  W^ith  fear  and  trembling  I  crept  on  my  knees  to  his  side." 
Diagram  descriptive  of  journey  from  the  Kentucky  cavern  to  the 

"End  of  Earth,"  showing  section  of  earth's  crust. 
"  Suspended  in  vacancy,  he  seemed  to  float." 

"  I  stood  alone  in  my  room  holding  the  mysterious  manuscript." 
Fac-simile  of  letter  from  I — Am — The — Maru 
Manuscript  dedication  of  Author's  Edition. 

MAIvK-PAGE   AND   TEXT   CUTS. 

"  The  Stern  Face."  Fac-simile,  reduced  from  copper  plate  title  page 
of  the  botanical  work  (1708),  917  pages,  of  Simouis  Paulli,  D.,  a 
Danish  physician.     Original  plate  7x5^^  inches. 

"The  Pleasant  Face."  Fac-simile  of  the  original  copper  plate  front- 
ispiece to  the  finely  illustrated  botanical  work  of  Joannes  Bur- 
inannus,  M.  D.,  descriptive  of  the  plants  collected  by  Carolus 
Plumierus.     Antique.     Original  plate  9x13  inches. 


165, 

166. 

197, 

198. 

205, 

206. 

209, 

210. 

255. 

256. 

297, 

298. 

303. 

304- 

307, 

308. 

332, 

333- 

347. 

34S. 

357. 

35S. 

363. 

364. 

365- 

ILLrSTRATIOXS 


PAGE. 


vi.     "Skeleton  forms  oppose  my  own."     Photograph  of  John  Uri  Lloyd 
in  the  gloomy  alcove  of  the  antiquated  library. 

12.     "  Let  me  have  your  answer  now." 

14.     "  I  espied  upon  the  table  a  long  white  hair."  • 

32.     "  Drew  the  knife  twice  across  the  front  of  the  door-knob." 

52.     "  I  was  taken  from  the  vehicle,  and  transferred  to  a  block-house." 

54.     "  The  dead  man  was  thrown  overboard." 

58.     "  A  mirror  was  thrust  beneath  my  gaze." 

70.     "  I  am  the  man  j-ou  seek." 

106.     "  We  approach  daylight,  I  can  see  your  face." 
loS.     "  Seated  himself  on  a  natural  bench  of  stone." 
129.     "An  endless  variety  of  stony  figures." 

136.  Cuts  showing  water  and  brine  surfaces. 

137.  Cuts  showing  earth  chambers  in  which  water  rises  above  brine. 

138,  139-     Cuts  showing  that  if  properly  connected,  water  and  brine  reverse  the 
usual  law  as  to  the  height  of  their  surfaces. 

143.  "  I  bounded  upward  fully  six  feet." 

144.  "  I  fluttered  to  the  earth  as  a  leaf  would  fall." 

145.  "  We  leaped  over  great  inequalities." 

173.     "The  bit  of  garment  fluttered  listlessly  away  to  the  distance,  and 

then — vacancy." 
1S2.     Cut  showing  that  water  may  be  made  to  flow  from  a  tube  higlier 

than  the  surface  of  the  water. 
184.     Cut  showing  how  an  artesian   fountain  may  be  made  without  earth 

strata. 
191.     "  Rising  abruptly,  he  grasped  my  hand." 
200.     "  A  1)rain,  a  living  brain,  my  own  brain." 
211.     "  Shape  of  drop  of  water  in  the  earth  cavern." 
227.     "We  would  skip  several  rods,  alighting  gently." 
229.     "  An  uncontrollable,  inexpressible  desire  to  flee." 
232.     "  I  dropped  on  my  knees  before  him." 

234.     "Handing  me  one  of  the  halves,  he  spoke  the  single  word,  'Drink.'" 
242.     "Each  finger  pointed  towards  the  open  way  in  front." 

280.  "Telescoped  energy  spheres." 

281.  "  Space  dirt  on  energy  spheres." 

313.     "I  drew  back  the  bar  of  iron  to  smite  the  apparently  defenseless 

being  in  the  forehead." 
315.     "He  sprung  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff  into  the  abyss  below,  carrying 

me  with  him  into  its  depths." 
336.     "The  Earth  and  its  atmosphere." 


PROLOGUE. 


]\In'  name  was  Johannes  Llewellyn  Llongollyn  Drnn*.  I  was 
named  Llewellyn  at  my  mother's  desire,  ont  of  respect  to  her 
father,  Dr.  Evan  Llewellyn,  the  scientist  and  speculative  phil- 
osopher, well  known  to  curious  students  as  the  author  of  various 
rare  works  on  occult  subjects.  The  other  given  names  were 
ancestral  also,  but  when  I  reached  the  age  of  appreciation,  they 
naturally  became  distasteful ;  so  it  is  that  in  early  youth  I  dropped 
the  first  and  third  of  these  cumbersome  words,  and  retained  only 
the  second  Christian  name.  While  perhaps  the  reader  of  these 
lines  may  regard  this  cognomen  with  less  favor  than  either  of  the 
others,  still  I  liked  it,  as  it  was  the  favorite  of  my  mother,  who 
always  used  the  name  in  full ;  the  world,  however,  contracted 
Llewellyn  to  Lew,  nnich  to  the  distress  of  my  dear  mother,  who 
felt  aggrieved  at  the  liberty.  After  her  death  I  decided  to  move 
to  a  western  city,  and  also  determined,  out  of  respect  to  her 
memory,  to  select  from  and  rearrange  the  letters  of  my  several 
names,  and  construct  therefrom  three  short,  terse  words,  which 
would  convey  to  m}-self  only,  the  resemblance  of  my  former 
name.  Hence  it  is  that  the  Cincinnati  Directory  does  not  record 
my  self-selected  name,  which  I  have  no  reason  to  bring  before 
the  public.  To  the  reader  my  name  is  Llewellyn  Dnir}'.  I  might 
add  that  my  ancestors  were  among  the  early  settlers  of  what  is 
now  New  York  City,  and  were  direct  descendants  of  the  early 
Welsh  kings ;  but  these  matters  do  not  concern  the  reader,  and  it 
is  not  of  them  that  I  now  choose  to  write.  ]\Iy  object  in  putting 
down  these  preliminary  paragraphs  is  simply  to  assure  the  reader 
of  such  facts,  and  such  only,  as  ma}'  give  him  confidence  in  my 
personal  sincerity  and  responsibility,  in  order  that  he  may  with  a 
right  understanding  read  the  remarkable  statements  that  occur  in 
the  succeeding  chapters. 

The  story  I  am  about  to  relate  is  very  direct,  and  some  parts 

of  it  are  very  strange,  not  to  say  marvelous ;  but  not  on  account 

1 


2  ETIDORIIPA. 

of  its  strangeness  alone  do  I  ask  for  the  narrative  a  reading  ; — that 
were  mere  trifling.  What  is  here  set  down  happened  as  recorded, 
but  I  shall  not  attempt  to  explain  things  which  even  to  myself 
are  enigmatical.  Let  the  candid  reader  read  the  story  as  I  have 
told  it,  and  make  ont  of  it  what  he  can,  or  let  him  pass  the  page 
by  unread — I  shall  not  insist  on  claiming  his  further  attention. 
Only,  if  he  does  read,  I  beg  him  to  read  with  an  open  mind, 
without  prejudice  and  without  predilection. 

Who  or  what  I  am  as  a  participant  in  this  work  is  of  small 
importance.  I  mention  my  history  only  for  the  sake  of  frankness 
and  fairness.  I  have  nothing  to  gain  by  issuing  the  volume. 
Neither  do  I  court  praise  nor  shun  censure.  Aly  purpose  is  to 
tell  the  truth. 

Early  in  the  fifties  I  took  up  my  residence  in  the  Queen  City, 
and  though  a  very  young  man,  found  the  employment  ready  that 
a  friend  had  obtained  for  me  with  a  manufacturing  firm  engaged 
in  a  large  and  complicated  business.  My  duties  were  varied  and 
peculiar,  of  such  a  nature  as  to  tax  body  and  mind  to  the  utmost, 
and  for  several  years  I  served  in  the  most  exacting  of  business 
details.  Besides  the  labor  which  my  vocation  entailed,  with  its 
manifold  and  multiform  perplexities,  I  voluntarily  imposed  upon 
nn'self  other  tasks,  which  I  pursued  in  the  privacy  of  ni}-  own 
bachelor  apartments.  An  inherited  love  for  books  on  abstruse 
and  occult  siibjects,  probably  in  part  the  result  of  my  blood 
connection  with  Dr.  Evan  Llewellyn,  caused  me  to  collect  a 
unique  library,  largely  on  mystical  subjects,  in  which  I  took  the 
keenest  delight.  My  business  and  my  professional  duties  by  da>-, 
and  my  studies  at  night,  made  my  life  a  busy  one. 

In  the  midst  of  my  work  and  reading  I  encountered  the  char- 
acter whose  strange  story  forms  the  essential  part  of  the  following 
narrative.  I  may  anticipate  by  saying  that  the  manuscript  to 
follow  only  incidentally  concerns  myself,  and  that  if  possible  I 
would  relinquish  all  connection  therewith.  It  recites  the  physical, 
mental,  and  moral  ad\'entures  of  one  whose  life  history  was 
abruptly  thrust  upon  my  attention,  and  as  abruptly  interrupted. 
The  vicissitudes  of  his  body  and  soiil,  circumstances  seemed  to 
compel  me  to  learn  and  to  make  pirblic. 


KTIDORHPA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  NEVER   LESS   ALONE   THAN  WHEN   ALONE." 

ORE  than  thirty  years  ago  occurred  the 
first  of  the  series  of  remarkable  events 
I  am  about  to  relate.     The  exact  date  I 
can  not  recall ;  but  it  was  in  November, 
and,  to  those  familiar  with  November  weather 
in  the  Ohio  Valle}-,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
state  that  the  month  is  one  of  possibilities. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  liable  to  bring  every  vari- 
ety of  weather,  from  the  delicious,  dreamy 
Indian  summer  days  that  linger  late  in  the 
fall,  to  a  combination  of  rain,  hail,  snow,  sleet, — in 
short,  atmospheric  conditions  sufficiently  aggravat- 
ing to  develop  a  suicidal  mania  in  any  one  the  least 
susceptible  to  such  influences.     While  the  general 
character  of  the  month  is  much  the  same  the  country  over, — 
showing  dull  grey  tones  of  sky,  abundant  rains  that  penetrate 
man  as  they  do  the  earth ;  cold,  shifting  winds,  that  search  the 
ver}'  marrow, — it  is  always  safe  to  count  more  or  less  upon  the 
probability  of  the  unexpected  throughout  the  month. 

The  particular  day  which  ushered  in  the  event  about  to  be 
chronicled,  was  one  of  these  possible  heterogeneous  days  present- 
ing a  combination  of  sunshine,  shower,  and  snow,  with  winds  that 
rang  all  the  changes  from  balmy  to  blustery,  a  morning  air  of 
caloric  and  an  evening  of  numbing  cold.  The  early  morning 
started  fair  and  sunny ;  later  came  light  showers  suddenly  switched 
by  shifting  winds  into  blinding  sleet,  until  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  found  the  four  winds  and  all  the  elements  commingled 
in  one  wild  orgy  with  clashing  and  roaring  as  of  a  great  organ 

3 


4  KTIDORHI'A. 

with  all  the  stops  out,  and  all  the  storm-fiends  dancing  over  the 
ke)--boards !  Xij^litfall  bion<^ht  some  semblance  of  order  to  the 
sounding  chaos,  but  still  kept  up  the  wild  nnisic  of  a  typical 
NoN'ember  day,  with  every  accompaniment  of  bleakness,  gloom, 
and  desolation. 

Thousands  of  chimneys,  exhaling  murky  clouds  of  bituminous 
soot  all  day,  had  covered  the  city  with  the  proverbial  pall  which 
the  winds  in  their  sport  had  shifted  hither  and  yon,  but  as,  thor- 
oughly tired  out,  they  subsided  into  silence,  the  smoky  mesh  sud- 
denly settled  over  the  houses  and  into  the  streets,  taking  possession 
of  the  city  and  contributing  to  the  melancholy  wretchedness  of 
such  of  the  inhabitants  as  had  to  be  out  of  doors.  Through  this 
smoke  the  red  sun  when  \isible  had  dragged  his  downward  course 
in  manifest  discouragement,  and  the  hastening  twilight  soon  gave 
place  to  the  blackness  of  darkness.     Night  reigned  supreme. 

Thirty  years  ago  electric  lighting  was  not  in  vogue,  and  the 
system  of  street  lamps  was  far  less  complete  than  at  present^ 
although  the  gas  burned  in  them  may  not  have  been  any  worse. 
The  lamps  were  much  fewer  and  farther  between,  and  the  light 
which  they  emitted  had  a  feeble,  sickly  aspect,  and  did  not  reach 
any  distance  into  the  moist  and  murky  atmosphere.  And  so  the 
night  was  dismal  enough,  and  the  few  people  upon  the  street 
were  visible  only  as  they  passed  directly  beneath  the  lamps,  or  in 
front  of  lighted  windows ;  seeming  at  other  times  like  moving 
shadows  against  a  black  ground. 

As  I  am  like  to  be  conspicuous  in  these  pages,  it  may  be 
proper  to  say  that  I  am  very  susceptible  to  atmospheric  influences. 
I  figure  among  my  friends  as  a  man  of  quiet  disposition,  but  I  am 
at  times  morose,  although  I  endeavor  to  conceal  this  fact  from 
others.  My  ner\^ous  system  is  a  sensitive  weather-glass.  Some- 
times I  fancy  that  I  nnist  have  been  born  under  the  planet  Saturn, 
for  I  find  myself  unpleasantly  influenced  by  moods  ascribed  to 
that  depressing  planet,  more  especially  in  its  disagreeable  phases, 
for  I  regret  to  state  that  1  do  not  find  corresponding  elation,  as  I 
should,  in  its  brighter  aspects.  1  have  an  especial  dislike  for 
wintry  weather,  a  dislike  which  I  find  growing  with  my  years, 
until  it  has  developed  almost  into  positive  antipathy  and  dread. 
On  the  day  I  have  described,  my  moods  had  varied  with  the 
weather.     The  fitfulness  of  the  winds  had  found  its  wav  into  mv 


"NKVER  LESS  ALONE  THAN  WHEN  ALONE."  5 

feelings,  and  the  somber  tone  of  the  clonds  into  my  meditations. 
I  was  restless  as  the  elements,  and  a  deep  sense  of  dissatisfaction 
with  myself  and  everj'thing  else,  possessed  me.  I  could  not  con- 
tent myself  in  any  place  or  position.  Reading  was  distasteful, 
writing  equally  so ;  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  a  brisk  walk,  for  a 
few  blocks,  might  afford  relief.  Muffling  myself  up  in  my  overcoat 
and  fur  cap,  I  took  the  street,  only  to  find  the  air  gusty  and  raw, 
and  I  gave  up  in  still  greater  disgust,  and  returning  home,  after 
drawing  the  curtains  and  locking  the  doors,  planted  myself  in 
front  of  a  glowing  grate  fire,  firmly  resolved  to  rid  myself  of 
myself  by  resorting  to  the  oblivion  of  thought,  reverie,  or  dream. 
To  sleep  was  impossible,  and  I  sat  moodily  in  an  easy  chair, 
noting  the  quarter  and  half-hour  strokes  as  they  were  chimed  out 
sweetly  from  the  spire  of  St.  Peter's  Cathedral,  a  few  blocks  away. 

Nine  o'clock  passed  with  its  silver- voiced  song  of  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home";  ten,  and  then  eleven  strokes  of  the  ponderous 
bell  which  noted  the  hours,  roused  me  to  a  strenuous  effort  to 
shake  off  the  feelings  of  despondency,  unrest,  and  turbulence, 
that  all  combined  to  produce  a  state  of  mental  and  physical  misery 
now  insufferable.  Rising  suddenly  from  my  chair,  without  a 
conscious  effort  I  walked  mechanically  to  a  book-case,  seized  a 
volume  at  random,  reseated  myself  before  the  fire,  and  opened 
the  book.  It  proved  to  be  an  odd,  neglected  volume,  "  Riley's 
Dictionary  of  Latin  Quotations."  At  the  moment  there  flashed 
upon  me  a  conscious  duality  of  existence.  Had  the  old  book 
some  mesmeric  power?  I  seemed  to  myself  two  persons,  and  I 
quickly  said  aloud,  as  if  addressing  my  double :  "If  I  can  not 
quiet  you,  turbulent  Spirit,  I  can  at  least  adapt  myself  to  your 
condition.  I  will  read  this  book  haphazard  from  bottom  to  top, 
or  backward,  if  necessary,  and  if  this  does  not  change  the  subject 
often  enough,  I  will  try  Noah  Webster."  Opening  the  book 
mechanically  at  page  297,  I  glanced  at  the  bottom  line  and  read, 
"  Nunquam  minus  solus  quam  cum  solus  "  (Never  less  alone  than 
w^hen  alone).  These  words  arrested  my  thoughts  at  once,  as,  by 
a  singular  chance,  they  seemed  to  fit  my  mood ;  was  it  or  was  it 
not  some  conscious  invisible  intelligence  that  caused  me  to  select 
that  page,  and  broiight  the  apothegm  to  my  notice  ? 

Again,  like  a  flash,  came  the  consciousness  of  duality,  and  I 
began  to  argue  with  mv  other  self     "  This  is  arrant  nonsense," 


6  ETIDORIIPA. 

I  cried  aloud;  "even  though  Cicero  did  say  it,  and,  it  is  on  a  par 
with  many  other  dehisive  maxims  that  have  for  so  many  years 
embittered  the  existence  of  our  modern  youth  by  misleading 
thought.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Cicero,  that  this  statement  is  not 
sound?  That  it  is  unworthy  the  position  you  occupy  in  history 
as  a  thinker  and  philosopher?  That  it  is  a  contradiction  in  itself, 
for  if  a  man  is  alone  he  is  alone,  and  that  settles  it?" 

I  mused  in  this  vein  a  few  moments,  and  then  resumed  aloud : 
"  It  won't  do,  it  won't  do ;  if  one  is  alone — the  word  is  absolute, — 
he  is  single,  isolated,  in  short,  alone ;  and  there  can  b\'  no  manner 
of  possibility  be  any  one  else  present.  Take  myself,  for  instance : 
I  am  the  sole  occupant  of  this  apartment ;  I  am  alone,  and  yet 
you  say  in  so  many  words  that  I  was  never  less  alone  than  at 
this  instant."  It  was  not  without  some  misgiving  that  I  uttered 
these  words,  for  the  strange  consciousness  of  my  own  duality 
constantly  grew  stronger,  and  I  could  not  shake  off  the  reflection 
that  even  now  there  were  two  of  myself  in  the  room,  and  that  I 
was  not  so  nuich  alone  as  I  endeavored  to  convince  myself. 

This  feeling  oppressed  me  like  an  incubus ;  I  must  throw  it 
oflf,  and,  rising,  I  tossed  the  book  upon  the  table,  exclaiming: 
"  W'Hiat  folly !  I  am  alone, — positively  there  is  no  other  living 
thing  visible  or  invisible  in  the  room."  I  hesitated  as  I  spoke,  for 
the  strange,  undefined  sensation  that  I  was  not  alone  had  become 
almost  a  conviction ;  but  the  sound  of  my  voice  encouraged  me, 
and  I  determined  to  discuss  the  subject,  and  I  remarked  in  a  full, 
strong  voice:  "I  am  surely  alone;  I  know  I  am!  Why,  I  will 
wager  everything  I  possess,  even  to  my  soul,  that  I  am  alone." 
I  stood  facing  the  smoldering  embers  of  the  fire  which  I  had 
neglected  to  replenish,  uttering  these  words  to  settle  the  contro- 
versy for  good  and  all  with  one  person  of  my  dual  self,  but  the 
other  ego  seemed  to  dissent  violently,  when  a  soft,  clear  voice 
claimed  my  ear : 

"You  have  lost  your  wager;  you  are  not  alone." 

I  turned  instantly  towards  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and,  to 
my  amazement,  saw  a  white-haired  man  seated  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  gazing  at  me  with  the  utmost  composure.  I  am 
not  a  coward,  nor  a  believer  in  ghosts  or  illusions,  and  yet  that 
sight  froze  me  where  I  stood.  It  had  no  supernatural  appearance 
— on  the  contrary,  was  a  plain,  ordinary,   flcsh-and-blood  man ; 


AND    TO    MY   AMAZEMENT    SAW   A   WHITE-HAIRED    MAN." 


"NEVER  LESS  ALONE  THAN  WHEN  ALONE."  9 

but  the  weather,  the  experiences  of  the  day,  the  weird,  inclement 
night,  had  all  conspired  to  strain  my  nerves  to  the  highest  point 
of  tension,  and  I  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  Noting  this,  the 
stranger  said  pleasantly  :  "  Quiet  yourself,  my  dear  sir ;  you  have 
nothing  to  fear;  be  seated."  I  obeyed,  mechanically,  and  regain- 
ing in  a  few  moments  some  semblance  of  composure,  took  a 
mental  inventory  of  my  visitor.  Who  is  he?  what  is  he?  how 
did  he  enter  without  my  notice,  and  why?  what  is  his  business? 
w^ere  all  questions  that  flashed  into  my  mind  in  quick  succession, 
and  quickly  flashed  out  unanswered. 

The  stranger  sat  eying  me  composedly,  even  pleasantly,  as  if 
waiting  for  me  to  reach  some  conclusion  regarding  himself.  At 
last  I  surmised :  "  He  is  a  maniac  who  has  found  his  way  here  by 
methods  peculiar  to  the  insane,  and  my  personal  safety  demands 
that  I  use  him  discreetly." 

"Very  good,"  he  remarked,  as  though  reading  my  thoughts; 
"  as  well  think  that  as  anything  else." 

"  But  why  are  you  here?    What  is  your  business?"  I  asked. 

"You  have  made  and  lost  a  wager,"  he  said.  "You  have 
committed  an  act  of  folly  in  making  positive  statements  regarding 
a  matter  about  which  you  know  nothing — a  \'ery  common  failing, 
by  the  way,  on  the  part  of  mankind,  and  concerning  which  I  wish 
first  to  set  you  straight." 

The  ironical  coolness  with  which  he  said  this  provoked  me, 
and  I  hastily  rejoined:  "You  are  impertinent;  I  must  ask  you  to 
leave  my  house  at  once." 

"  Very  well,"  he  answered ;  "  but  if  you  insist  upon  this,  I  shall, 
on  behalf  of  Cicero,  claim  the  stake  of  }-our  voluntar}-  wager, 
which  means  that  I  must  first,  by  natural  though  violent  means, 
release  your  soul  from  your  body."  So  saying  he  arose,  drew 
from  an  inner  pocket  a  long,  keen  knife,  the  blade  of  which 
quiveringly  glistened  as  he  laid  it  upon  the  table.  IMoving  his 
chair  so  as  to  be  within  easy  reach  of  the  gleaming  weapon,  he 
sat  down,  and  again  regarded  me  with  the  same  quiet  composure 
I  had  noted,  and  which  was  fast  dispelling  my  first  impression 
concerning  his  sanity. 

I  was  not  prepared  for  his  strange  action ;  in  truth,  I  was  not 
prepared  for  anything;  my  mind  was  confused  concerning  the 
whole   nigfht's  doings,   and    I   was  unable   to  reason  clearlv  or 


10  ETIDORIIPA. 

consecutively,   or  even   to  satisfy   myself   what    I   did    think,   if 
indeed  I  thought  at  all. 

The  sensation  of  fear,  however,  was  fast  leaving  ine;  there 
was  something  reassuring  in  my  unbidden  guest's  perfect  ease  of 
manner,  and  the  mild,  though  searching  gaze  of  his  eyes,  which 
were  wonderful  in  their  expression.  I  began  to  observe  his 
personal  characteristics,  which  impressed  me  favorably,  and  )'et 
were  extraordinary.  He  was  nearly  six  feet  tall,  and  perfectly 
straight ;  well  proportioned,  with  no  tendency  either  to  leanness 
or  obesity.  But  his  head  w^as  an  object  from  which  I  could  not 
take  my  eyes, — such  a  head  surely  I  had  never  before  seen  on 
mortal  shoulders.  The  chin,  as  seen  through  his  silver  beard,  was 
rounded  and  well  developed,  the  mouth  straight,  with  pleasant 
lines  about  it,  the  jaws  square  and,  like  the  mouth,  indicating 
decision,  the  eyes  deep  set  and  arched  with  heavy  eyebrows,  and 
the  whole  surmounted  b\'  a  forehead  so  vast,  so  high,  that  it  was 
almost  a  deformity,  and  )et  it  did  not  impress  me  unpleasantly ;  it 
was  the  forehead  of  a  scholar,  a  profound  thinker,  a  deep  student. 
The  nose  was  inclined  to  aquiline,  and  quite  large.  The  contour  of 
the  head  and  face  impressed  me  as  indicating  a  man  of  learning, 
one  who  had  given  a  lifetime  to  experimental  as  well  as  speculative 
thought.  His  voice  was  mellow,  clear,  and  distinct,  always  pleas- 
antly modulated  and  soft,  never  loud  nor  unpleasant  in  the  least 
degree.  One  remarkable  feature  I  miist  not  fail  to  mention — his 
hair;  this,  wdiile  thin  and  scant  upon  the  top  of  his  head,  w^as 
long,  and  reached  to  his  shoulders;  his  beard  was  of  unusual 
length,  descending  almost  to  his  waist ;  his  hair,  eyebrows,  and 
beard  were  all  of  singular  whiteness  and  purity,  almost  transpar- 
ent, a  silvery  whiteness  that  seemed  an  aureolar  sheen  in  the 
glare  of  the  gaslight.  What  struck  me  as  particularly  remarkable 
was  that  his  skin  looked  as  soft  and  smooth  as  that  of  a  child ; 
there  was  not  a  blemish  in  it.  His  age  was  a  puzzle  none  could 
guess ;  stripped  of  his  hair,  or  the  color  of  it  changed,  he  might 
be  twenty-five, — given  a  few  wrinkles,  he  might  be  ninety.  Taken 
altogether,  I  had  never  seen  his  like,  nor  anything  approaching  his 
like,  and  for  an  instant  there  was  a  faint  suggestion  to  my  mind 
that  he  was  not  of  this  earth,  but  belonged  to  some  other  planet. 

I  now  fancy  he  nnist  ha\'e  read  nn-  impressions  of  him  as  these 
ideas  shaped  themselves  in  my  brain,  and  that  he  was  quietly 


"NEVKR  IvKSS  ALONP:  THAN  WHEN  ALONE."  11 

waiting  for  me  to  regain  a  degree  of  self-possession  that  would 
allow  him  to  disclose  the  purpose  of  his  visit. 

He  was  first  to  break  the  silence :  "  I  see  that  you  are  not 
disposed  to  pay  }-our  wager  an)'  more  than  I  am  to  collect  it,  so  we 
will  not  discuss  that.  I  admit  that  my  introduction  to-night  was 
abrupt,  but  you  can  not  deny  that  you  challenged  me  to  appear." 
I  was  not  clear  upon  the  point,  and  said  so.  "  Your  memory  is 
at  fault,"  he  continued,  "if  you  can  not  recall  your  experiences 
of  the  day  just  past.  Did  you  not  attempt  to  interest  yourself  in 
modern  book  lore,  to  fix  your  mind  in  turn  upon  history,  chem- 
istry, botany,  poetry,  and  general  literature  ?  And  all  these  failing, 
did  you  not  deliberately  challenge  Cicero  to  a  practical  demonstra- 
tion of  an  old  apothegm  of  his  that  has  survived  for  centuries, 
and  of  your  own  free  will  did  not  you  make  a  wager  that,  as  an 
admirer  of  Cicero's,  I  am  free  to  accept?"  To  all  this  I  could  but 
silently  assent.  "  Very  good,  then  ;  we  will  not  pursue  this  subject 
further,  as  it  is  not  relevant  to  my  purpose,  which  is  to  acquaint 
you  with  a  narrative  of  unusual  interest,  upon  certain  conditions, 
with  which  if  you  comply,  you  wall  not  only  serve  yourself,  but 
me  as  well." 

"  Please  name  the  conditions,"  I  said. 

"They  are  simple  enough,"  he  answered.  "  The  narrative  I 
speak  of  is  in  manuscript.  I  will  produce  it  in  the  near  future, 
and  my  design  is  to  read  it  aloud  to  you,  or  to  allow  you  to  read 
it  to  me,  as  you  may  select.  Further,  my  wish  is  that  during  the 
reading  you  shall  interpose  any  objection  or  question  that  you 
deem  proper.  This  reading  will  occupy  many  evenings,  and  I 
shall  of  necessity  be  with  you  often.  When  the  reading  is  con- 
cluded, we  will  seal  the  package  securely,  and  I  shall  leave  you 
forever.  You  will  then  deposit  the  manuscript  in  some  safe 
place,  and  let  it  remain  for  thirty  years.  When  this  period  has 
elapsed,  I  wish  you  to  publish  this  histor}^  to  the  world." 

"  Your  conditions  seem  easy,"  I  said,  after  a  few  seconds'  pause, 
"They  are  certainly  very  simple;  do  you  accept?" 
I  hesitated,  for  the  prospect  of  giving  myself  up  to  a  suc- 
cession of  interviews  with  this  extraordinary  and  mysterious 
personage  seemed  to  require  consideration.  He  evidently  divined 
my  thoughts,  for,  rising  from  his  chair,  he  said  abruptly:  "Let 
me  have  your  answer  now." 


12 


KTIDORIIPA. 


I  debated  the  matter  no  further,  but  answered :  "  I  accept, 
conditionalh." 

"Name  your  conditions,"  the  guest  replied. 

"I  will  either  publish  the  work,  or  induce  some  other  man  to 
do  so." 


"let  me  HA^^;  your  answer  now." 


"Good,"  he  said;  "I  will  see  you  again,"  with  a  polite  bow; 
and  turning  to  the  door  which  I  had  previously  locked,  he  opened 
it  softly,  and  with  a  quiet  "Good  night"  disappeared  in  the 
hall-way. 

I  looked  after  him  with  bewildered  senses;  but  a  sudden 
impulse  caused  me  to  glance  toward  the  table,  when  I  saw  that  he 
had  forgotten  his  knife.  With  the  view  of  returning  this,  I  reached 
to  pick  it  up,  but  my  finger  tips  no  sooner  touched  the  handle 
than  a  sudden  chill  shivered  along  my  nerves.  Not  as  an  electric 
shock,  but  rather  as  a  sensation  of  extreme  cold  was  the  current 
tliat  ran  throuirh  me  in  an  instant.     Rushine:  into  the  hall-wa\-  to 


"NEVER  LESS  ALONE  THAN  WHEN  AI.ONE."  13 

the  landing  of  the  stairs,  I  called  after  the  mysterious  being, 
"  You  have  forgotten  your  knife,"  but  beyond  the  faint  echo  of  my 
voice,  I  heard  no  sound.  The  phantom  was  gone.  A  moment 
later  I  was  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  had  thrown  open  the 
door.  A  street  lamp  shed  an  uncertain  light  in  front  of  the 
house.  I  stepped  out  and  listened  intently  for  a  moment,  but  not 
a  sound  was  audible,  if  indeed  I  except  the  beating  of  nn'  own 
heart,  which  throbbed  so  wildly  that  I  fancied  I  heard  it.  No 
footfall  echoed  from  the  deserted  streets;  all  was  silent  as  a 
churchyard,  and  I  closed  and  locked  the  door  softh',  tiptoed  mv 
way  back  to  my  room,  and  sank  collapsed  into  an  easy  chair.  I 
was  more  than  exhausted ;  I  quivered  from  head  to  foot,  not  with 
cold,  but  with  a  strange  nervous  chill  that  found  intensest  expres- 
sion in  my  spinal  column,  and  seemed  to  flash  up  and  down  mv 
back  vibrating  like  a  feverous  pulse.  This  active  pain  was 
succeeded  by  a  feeling  of  frozen  numbness,  and  I  sat  I  know  not 
how  long,  trying  to  tranquilize  myself  and  think  temperately  of 
the  night's  occurrence.  By  degrees  I  recovered  my  normal 
sensations,  and  directing  my  will  in  the  channel  of  sober 
reasoning,  I  said  to  myself:  "There  can  be  no  mistake  about 
his  visit,  for  his  knife  is  here  as  a  witness  to  the  fact.  So 
much  is  sure,  and  I  will  secure  that  testimony  at  all  events." 
With  this  reflection  I  turned  to  the  table,  but  to  my  astonishment 
I  discovered  that  the  knife  had  disappeared.  It  needed  but  this 
miracle  to  start  the  perspiration  in  great  cold  beads  from  ever\- 
pore.  My  brain  was  in  a  whirl,  and  reeling  into  a  chair,  I  co\- 
ered  my  face  with  my  hands.  How  long  I  sat  in  this  posture 
I  do  not  remember.  I  only  know  that  I  began  to  doubt  my  own 
sanity,  and  wondered  if  this  were  not  the  way  people  became 
deranged.  Had  not  my  peciiliar  habits  of  isolation,  irregular  and 
intense  study,  erratic  living,  all  conspired  to  unseat  reason  ? 
Surely  here  was  every  ground  to  believe  so ;  and  yet  I  was  able 
still  to  think  consistently  and  hold  steadily  to  a  single  line  of 
thought.  Insane  people  can  not  do  that,  I  reflected,  and  gradu- 
ally the  tremor  and  excitement  wore  away.  When  I  had  become 
calmer  and  more  collected,  and  my  sober  judgment  said,  "  Go  to 
bed ;  sleep  just  as  long  as  you  can;  hold  your  eyelids  down,  and 
when  you  awake  refreshed,  as  you  will,  think  out  the  whole 
subject  at  your  leisure,"  I  arose,  threw  open  the  shutters,  and 


14 


ETIDORHPA. 


found  that  day  was  breaking.  Hastily  undressing  I  went  to 
bed,  and  closed  my  eyes,  vaguely  conscious  of  some  soothino- 
guardianship.  Perhaps  because  I  was  physically  exhausted,  I 
soon  lost  myself  in  the  oblivion  of  sleep. 


r^^I^I--? 


"I   ESPIED   UPON   THE    TABLE   A   LONG    WHITE    HAIR." 

I  did  not  dream, — at  least  I  could  not  afterwards  remember  my 
dream  if  I  had  one,  but  I  recollect  thinking  that  somebody 
stnick  ten  distinct  blows  on  my  door,  which  seemed  to  me 
to  be  of  metal  and  very  sonorous.  These  ten  blows  in  ni>- 
semi-conscious  state  I  counted.  I  lay  very  quiet  for  a  time 
collecting  my  thoughts  and  noting  various  objects  about  the 
room,  until  my  eye  caught  the  dial  of  a  French  clock  upon  the 


"NKVER  LESS  ALONE  THAN  WHEN  ALONE."  15 

mantel.  It  was  a  few  minutes  past  ten,  and  the  blows  I  had 
heard  were  the  strokes  of  the  hammer  upon  the  gong  in  the 
clock.  The  sun  was  shining  into  the  room,  which  was  quite  cold, 
for  the  fire  had  gone  out.  I  arose,  dressed  myself  quickly,  and 
after  thoroughly  laving  my  face  and  hands  in  ice-cold  water,  felt 
considerably  refreshed. 

Before  going  out  to  breakfast,  while  looking  around  the  room 
for  a  few  things  which  I  wanted  to  take  with  me,  I  espied  upon 
the  table  a  long  white  hair.  This  was  indeed  a  surprise,  for  I  had 
about  concluded  that  my  adventure  of  the  previous  night  was 
a  species  of  waking  nightmare,  the  result  of  overworked  brain 
and  weakened  body.  But  here  was  tangible  evidence  to  the 
contrary',  an  assurance  that  my  mysterious  visitor  was  not  a 
fancy  or  a  dream,  and  his  parting  words,  "  I  will  see  you  again," 
recurred  to  me  with  singular  effect.  "  He  will  see  me  again ; 
very  well ;  I  will  preserve  this  evidence  of  his  visit  for  future 
use."  I  wound  the  delicate  filament  into  a  little  coil,  folded  it 
carefully  in  a  bit  of  paper,  and  consigned  it  to  a  corner  in  my 
pocket-book,  though  not  without  some  misgiving  that  it  too 
might  disappear  as  did  the  knife. 

The  strange  experience  of  that  night  had  a  good  effect  on 
me ;  I  became  more  regular  in  all  my  habits,  took  abundant 
sleep  and  exercise,  was  more  methodical  in  my  modes  of  study 
and  reasoning,  and  in  a  short  time  found  myself  vastly  improved 
in  every  way,  mentally  and  physically. 

The  days  went  fleeting  into  weeks,  the  weeks  into  months, 
and  while  the  form  and  figure  of  the  white-haired  stranger 
were  seldom  absent  from  my  mind,  he  came  no  more. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    FRIENDLY   CONFERENCE. 

It  is  rare,  in  our  present  civilization,  to  find  a  man  who  lives 
alone.  This  remark  does  not  apply  to  hermits  or  persons  of 
abnormal  or  perverted  mental  tendencies,  but  to  the  majority  of 
mankind  living  and  moving  actively  among  their  fellows,  and 
engaged  in  the  ordinary  occupations  of  humanity.  Every  man 
must  have  at  least  one  confidant,  either  of  his  own  household,  or 
within  the  circle  of  his  intimate  friends.  There  may  possibly 
be  rare  exceptions  among  persons  of  genius  in  statecraft,  war> 
or  commerce,  but  it  is  doubtful  even  in  such  instances  if  any 
keep  all  their  thoughts  to  themselves,  hermetically  sealed  from 
their  fellows.  As  a  prevailing  rule,  either  a  loving  wife  or  very 
near  friend  shares  the  inner  thought  of  the  most  secretive 
individual,  even  when  secrecy  seems  an  indispensable  element 
to  success.  The  tendency  to  a  free  interchange  of  ideas  and 
experiences  is  almost  universal,  instinct  prompting  the  natural 
man  to  unburden  his  most  sacred  thought,  when  the  proper 
confidant  and  the  proper  time  come  for  the  disclosure. 

For  months  I  kept  to  myself  the  events  narrated  in  the 
preceding  chapter.  And  this  for  several  reasons :  first,  the  dread 
of  ridicule  that  would  follow  the  relation  of  the  fantastic  occur- 
rences, and  the  possible  suspicion  of  my  sanity,  that  might  result 
from  the  recital ;  second,  very  grave  doubts  as  to  the  reality  of 
my  experiences.  But  by  degrees  self-confidence  was  restored, 
as  I  reasoned  the  matter  over  and  reassured  myself  by  occa- 
sional contemplation  of  the  silvery  hair  I  had  coiled  in  my 
pocket-book,  and  which  at  first  I  had  expected  would  vanish  as 
did  the  stranger's  knife.  There  came  upon  me  a  feeling  that  I 
should  see  my  weird  visitor  again,  and  at  an  early  day.  I  resisted 
this  impression,  for  it  was  a  feeling  of  the  idea,  rather  than  a 
thought,  but  the  vague  expectation  grew  upon  me  in  spite  of 
mvself,  until  at  length  it  became  a  conviction  which  no  argument 


A  FRIENDLY  CONFERENCE.  17 

or  logic  could  shake.  Curiously  enough,  as  the  original  incident 
receded  into  the  past,  this  new  idea  thrust  itself  into  the  fore- 
ground, and  I  began  in  my  own  mind  to  court  another  interview. 
At  times,  sitting  alone  after  night,  I  felt  that  I  was  watched  by 
unseen  eyes ;  these  eyes  haunted  me  in  my  solitude,  and  I  was 
morally  sure  of  the  presence  of  another  than  myself  in  the  room. 
The  sensation  was  at  first  unpleasant,  and  I  tried  to  throw  it  off, 
with  partial  success.  But  onh'  for  a  little  while  could  I  banish 
the  intrusive  idea,  and  as  the  thought  took  form,  and  the  invisible 
presence  became  more  actual  to  consciousness,  I  hoped  that  the 
stranger  would  make  good  his  parting  promise,  "  I  will  see  you 
again." 

On  one  thing  I  was  resolved;  I  would  at  least  be  better 
informed  on  the  subject  of  hallucinations  and  apparitions,  and 
not  be  taken  unawares  as  I  had  been.  To  this  end  I  decided 
to  confer  with  my  friend.  Professor  Chickering,  a  quiet,  thought- 
ful man,  of  varied  accomplishments,  and  thoroughly  read  upon 
a  great  number  of  topics,  especially  in  the  literature  of  the 
marvelous. 

So  to  the  Professor  I  went,  after  due  appointment,  and 
confided  to  him  full  particulars  of  m}-  adventure.  He  listened 
patiently  throughout,  and  when  I  had  finished,  assured  me  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way  that  such  hallucinations  were  by  no  means 
rare.  His  remark  was  provoking,  for  I  did  not  expect  from  the 
patient  interest  he  had  shown  while  I  was  telling  my  story,  that 
the  whole  matter  would  be  dismissed  thus  summarily.  I  said 
with  some  warmth : 

"  But  this  was  not  a  hallucination.  I  tried  at  first  to  persuade 
myself  that  it  was  illusory,  but  the  more  I  have  thought  the 
experience  over,  the  more  real  it  becomes  to  me." 

"Perhaps  you  were  dreaming,"  suggested  the  Professor. 

"  No,"  I  answered ;  "  I  have  tried  that  hypothesis,  and  it  will 
not  do.     Many  things  make  that  view  untenable." 

"Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that,"  he  said;  "you  were,  by  vour 
own  account,  in  a  highly  nervous  condition,  and  physically  tired. 
It  is  possible,  perhaps  probable,  that  in  this  state,  as  you  sat  in 
your  chair,  3^ou  dozed  off  for  a  short  interval,  during  which  the 
illusion  flashed  throuo;h  vour  mind." 


18  ETIDORIIPA. 

"  How  do  you  explain  the  fact  that  incidents  occupying  a 
large  portion  of  the  night,  occurred  in  an  interval  which  you 
describe  as  a  flash?" 

"Easily  enough;  in  dreams  time  may  not  exist:  periods 
embracing  weeks  or  months  may  be  reduced  to  an  instant. 
Long  journeys,  hours  of  conversation,  or  a  multitude  of  transac- 
tions, may  be  compressed  into  a  term  measured  by  the  opening 
or  closing  of  a  door,  or  the  striking  of  a  clock.  In  dreams, 
ordinary  standards  of  reason  find  no  place,  while  ideas  or  events 
chase  through  the  mind  more  raj^idly  than  thought." 

"  Conceding  all  this,  why  did  I,  considering  the  unusual 
character  of  the  incidents,  accept  them  as  real,  as  substantial, 
as  natural  as  the  most  commonplace  events?" 

"There  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  that,"  he  replied.  "In 
dreams  all  sorts  of  absurdities,  impossibilities,  discordancies, 
and  violation  of  natural  law  appear  realities,  without  exciting 
the  least  surprise  or  suspicion.  Imagination  runs  riot  and  is 
supreme,  and  reason  for  the  time  is  dormant.  We  see  ghosts, 
spirits,  the  forms  of  persons  dead  or  living, — we  suffer  pain, 
pleasure,  hunger, — and  all  sensations  and  emotions,  without  a 
moment's  question  of  their  reality." 

"  Do  any  of  the  subjects  of  our  dreams  or  visions  leave 
tangible  evidences  of  their  presence?" 

"  Assuredly  not,"  he  answered,  with  an  incredulous,  half- 
impatient  gesture ;  "  the  idea  is  absurd." 

"Then  I  was  not  dreaming,"  I  mused. 

Without  looking  at  me,  the  Professor  went  on:  "These  false 
presentiments  may  have  their  origin  in  other  ways,  as  from  mental 
disorders  caused  by  indigestion.  Nicolai,  a  noted  bookseller  of 
Berlin,  was  thus  afflicted.  His  experiences  are  interesting  and 
possibly  suggestive.     Let  me  read  some  of  them  to  you." 

The  Professor  hereupon  glanced  over  his  bookshelf,  selected 
a  volume,  and  proceeded  to  read :  * 

"I  generally  saw  human  forms  of  both  sexes;  but  they  usuall}-  seemed  not 
to  take  the  smallest  notice  of  each  other,  moving  as  in  a  market  place,  where 
all  are  eager  to  press  through  the  crowd ;  at  times,  however,  they  seemed  to  be 
transacting  business  with  each  other.  I  also  saw  several  times,  people  on 
horseback,  dogs,  and  birds. 


'■'This  work  I  have  found  to  be  Vol.  IV.  of  Chaniber.s'  Miscellany,  publislud  by  C^.ould  and 
Lincoln,  Boston. — ^J.  U.  I<. 


A  FRIENDLY  CONFERENCE.  19 

"All  these  phantasms  appeared  to  me  in  their  natural  size,  and  as  distinct 
as  if  alive,  exhibiting  different  shade*  of  carnation  in  the  uncovered  parts,  as 
well  as  different  colors  and  fashions  in  their  dresses,  though  the  colors  seemed 
somewhat  paler  than  in  real  nature.  None  of  the  figures  appeared  particularly 
terrible,  comical,  or  disgusting,  most  of  them  being  of  indifferent  shape,  and 
some  presenting  a  pleasant  aspect.  The  longer  these  phantasms  continued  to 
visit  me,  the  more  frequently  did  they  return,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
increased  in  number  about  four  weeks  after  they  had  first  appeared.  I  also 
began  to  hear  them  talk:  these  phantoms  conversed  among  themselves,  but 
more  frequently  addressed  their  discourse  to  me ;  their  speeches  were  uncom- 
monly short,  and  never  of  an  unpleasant  turn.  At  different  times  there 
appeared  to  me  both  dear  and  sensible  friends  of  both  sexes,  whose  addresses 
tended  to  appease  my  grief,  which  had  not  yet  vrholly  subsided :  their  consola- 
tory speeches  were  in  general  addressed  to  me  when  I  was  alone.  Sometimes, 
however,  I  was  accosted  by  these  consoling  friends  while  I  was  engaged  in 
company,  and  not  unfrequently  while  real  persons  were  speaking  to  me. 
These  consolatory  addresses  consisted  sometimes  of  abrupt  phrases,  and  at 
other  times  they  were  regularly  executed." 

Here  I  interrupted:  "I  note,  Professor,  that  Mr.  Nicolai 
knew  these  forms  to  be  ilhisions," 

Without  answering  my  remark,  he  continued  to  read : 

"  There  is  in  imagination  a  potency  far  exceeding  the  fabled  power  of 
Aladdin's  lamp.  How  often  does  one  sit  in  wintry  evening  musings,  and  trace 
in  the  glowing  embers  the  features  of  an  absent  friend?  Imagination,  with  its 
magic  wand,  will  there  build  a  city  with  its  countless  spires,  or  marshal 
contending  armies,  or  drive  the  tempest-shattered  ship  upon  the  ocean.  The 
following  story,  related  by  Scott,  affords  a  good  illustration  of  this  principle : 

"  '  Not  long  after  the  death  of  an  illustrious  poet,  who  had  filled,  while 
living,  a  great  station  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  a  literary  friend,  to  whom  the 
deceased  had  been  well  known,  was  engaged  during  the  darkening  twilight  of 
an  autumn  evening,  in  perusing  one  of  the  publications  which  professed  to 
detail  the  habits  and  opinions  of  the  distinguished  individual  who  was  now  no 
more.  As  the  reader  had  enjoj-ed  the  intimacy  of  the  deceased  to  a  consider- 
able degree,  he  was  deeply  interested  in  the  publication,  which  contained  some 
particulars  relating  to  himself  and  other  friends.  A  visitor  was  sitting  in  the 
apartment,  who  was  also  engaged  in  reading.  Their  sitting-room  opened  into 
an  entrance  hall,  rather  fantastically  fitted  up  with  articles  of  armor,  skins  of 
wild  animals,  and  the  like.  It  was  w'hen  laying  down  his  book,  and  passing 
into  this  hall,  through  which  the  moon  was  beginning  to  shine,  that  the 
individual  of  whom  I  speak  saw  right  before  him,  in  a  standing  posture,  the 
exact  representation  of  his  departed  friend,  whose  recollection  had  been  so 
strongly  brought  to  his  imagination.  He  stopped  for  a  single  moment,  so  as 
to  notice  the  wonderful  accuracy-  with  which  fancy  had  impressed  upon  the 
bodily  eye  the  peculiarities  of  dress  and  position  of  the  illustrious  poet. 
Sensible,  however,  of  the  delusion,  he  felt  no  sentiment  save  that  of  wonder  at 
the  extraordinary  accuracy  of  the  resemblance,  and  stepped  onward  to  the 
figure,  which  resolved  itself  as  he  approached    into  the  various  materials  of 


20  ETIDORHPA. 

which' it  was  composed.  These  were  merely  a  screen  occupied  by  great  coats, 
shawls,  plaids,  and  such  other  articles  as  are  usually  found  in  a  country 
entrance  hall.  The  spectator  returned  to  the  spot  from  which  he  had  seen  the 
illusion,  and  endeavored  with  all  his  power  to  recall  the  image  which  had  been 
so  singularly  vivid.  But  this  he  was  unable  to  do.  And  the  person  who  had 
witnessed  the  apparition,  or,  more  properly,  whose  excited  state  had  been  the 
means  of  raising  it,  had  only  to  return  to  the  apartment,  and  tell  his  young 
friend  under  what  a  striking  hallucination  he  had  for  a  moment  labored.' " 

Here  I  was  constrained  to  call  the  Professor  to  a  halt.  "  Your 
stories  are  very  interesting,"  I  said,  "but  I  fail  to  perceive  any 
analogy  in  either  the  conditions  or  the  incidents,  to  my  experience. 
I  was  fully  awake  and  conscious  at  the  time,  and  the  man  I  saw 
appeared  and  moved  about  in  the  full  glare  of  the  gaslight," — 

"  Perhaps  not,"  he  answered;  ''  I  am  simply  giving  you  some 
general  illustrations  of  the  subject.  But  here  is  a  case  more  to 
the  point." 

Again  he  read : 

"A  lady  was  once  passing  through  a  wood,  in  the  darkening  twilight  of  a 
stormy  evening,  to  visit  a  friend  who  was  watching  over  a  dying  child.  The 
clouds  were  thick — the  rain  beginning  to  fall;  darkness  was  increasing;  the 
wind  was  moaning  mournfully  through  the  trees.  The  lady's  heart  almost 
failed  her  as  she  saw  that  she  had  a  mile  to  walk  through  the  woods  in  the 
gathering  gloom.  But  the  reflection  of  the  situation  of  her  friend  forbade  her 
turning  back.  Excited  and  trembling,  she  called  to  her  aid  a  nervous  resolu- 
tion, and  pressed  onward.  She  had  not  proceeded  far  when  she  beheld  in  the 
path  before  her  the  movement  of  some  very  indistinct  object.  It  appeared  to 
keep  a  little  distance  ahead  of  her,  and  as  she  made  efforts  to  get  nearer  to  see 
what  it  was,  it  seemed  proportionally  to  recede.  The  lady  began  to  feel  rather 
unpleasantly.  There  was  some  pale  white  object  certainly  discernible  before 
her,  and  it  appeared  mysteriously  to  float  along,  at  a  regular  distance,  without 
any  effort  at  motion.  Notwithstanding  the  lady's  good  sense  and  unusual 
resolution,  a  cold  chill  began  to  come  over  her.  She  made  every  effort  to  resist 
her  fears,  and  soon  succeeded  in  drawing  nearer  the  mysterious  object,  when 
she  was  appalled  at  beholding  the  features  of  her  friend's  child,  cold  in  death, 
wrapt  in  its  shroud.  She  gazed  earnestly,  and  there  it  remained  distinct  and 
clear  before  her  eyes.  She  considered  it  a  premonition  that  her  friend's  child 
was  dead,  and  that  she  must  hasten  to  her  aid.  But  there  was  the  apparition 
directly  in  her  path.  She  must  pass  it.  Taking  up  a  little  stick,  she  forced 
herself  along  to  the  object,  and  behold,  some  little  animal  scampered  away.  It 
was  this  that  her  excited  imagination  had  transformed  into  the  corpse  of  an 
infant  in  its  winding  sheet." 

I  was  a  little  irritated,  and  once  more  interrupted  the  reader 

warmly :  "  This  is  exasperating.    Now  what  resemblance  is  there 

between  the  vagaries  of  a  hysterical,  weak-minded  woman,  and 

my  case?" 


A  FRIENDLY  CONFERENCE.  21 

He  smiled,  and  again  read : 

"  The  numerous  stories  told  of  ghosts,  or  the  spirits  of  persons  who  are 
dead,  will  in  most  instances  be  found  to  have  originated  in  diseased  imagina- 
tion, aggravated  by  some  abnormal  defect  of  mind.  We  may  mention  a 
remarkabla  case  in  point,  and  one  which  is  not  mentioned  in  English  works 
on  this  subject ;  it  is  told  by  a  compiler  of  Les  Causes  Celebres.  Two  young 
noblemen,  the  Marquises  De  Rambouillet  and  De  Precy,  belonging  to  two  of 
the  first  families  of  France,  made  an  agreement,  in  the  warmth  of  their 
friendship,  that  the  one  who  died  first  should  return  to  the  other  with  tidings 
of  the  world  to  come.  Soon  afterwards  De  Rambouillet  went  to  the  wars  in 
Flanders,  while  De  Precy  remained  at  Paris,  stricken  by  a  fever.  Lying  alone 
in  bed,  and  severely  ill,  De  Precy  one  day  heard  a  rustling  of  his  bed  curtains, 
and  turning  round,  saw  his  friend  De  Rambouillet,  in  full  military  attire.  The 
sick  man  sprung  over  the  bed  to  welcome  his  friend,  but  the  other  receded,  and 
said  that  he  had  come  to  fulfill  his  promise,  having  been  killed  on  that  very 
day.  He  further  said  that  it  behooved  De  Precy  to  think  more  of  the  after- 
world,  as  all  that  was  said  of  it  was  true,  and  as  he  himself  would  die  in  his 
first  battle.  De  Precy  was  then  left  by  the  phantom ;  and  it  was  afterward 
found  that  De  Rambouillet  had  fallen  on  that  day." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "and  so  the  phantom  predicted  an  event  that 
followed  as  indicated." 

"Spiritual  illusions,"  explained  the  Professor,  "are  not 
unusual,  and  well  authenticated  cases  are  not  wanting  in 
which  they  have  been  induced  in  persons  of  intelligence  by 
functional  or  organic  disorders.  In  the  last  case  cited,  the 
prediction  was  followed  by  a  fulfillment,  but  this  was  chance 
or  mere  coincidence.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  in  the 
multitude  of  dreams  that  come  to  humanity,  some  few  should 
not  be  followed  by  events  so  similar  as  to  warrant  the  belief 
that  they  were  prefigured.  But  here  is  an  illustration  that 
fits  your  case  :  let  me  read  it : 

"  In  some  instances  it  may  be  difficult  to  decide  whether  specti'al  appear- 
ances and  spectral  noises  proceed  from  physical  derangement  or  from  an 
overwrought  state  of  mind.  Want  of  exercise  and  amusement  may  also  be  a 
prevailing  cause,  A  friend  mentions  to  us  the  following  case  :  An  acquaintance 
of  his,  a  merchant,  in  London,  who  had  for  years  paid  very  close  attention  to 
business,  was  one  day,  while  alone  in  his  counting  house,  very  much  surprised 
to  hear,  as  he  imagined,  persons  outside  the  door  talking  freely  about  him. 
Thinking  it  was  some  acquaintances  who  were  playing  off"  a  trick,  he  opened 
the  door  to  request  them  to  come  in,  when  to  his  amazement,  he  found  that 
nobod}^  was  there.  He  again  sat  down  to  his  desk,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
same  dialogue  recommenced.  The  language  was  very  alarming.  One  voice 
seemed  to  sa\- :  'We  have  the  scoundrel  in  his  own  counting  house;  let  us  go 
in  and  seize  him.'  'Certainly,'  replied  the  other  voice,  'it  is  right  to  take  him; 
he  has  been  guilty  of   a  great  crime,  and  ought  to  be  brought  to  condign 


22  ETIDORHPA. 

punishment.'  Alarmed  at  these  threats,  the  bewildered  merchant  rushed  to  the 
door;  and  there  again  no  person  was  to  be  seen.  He  now  locked  his  door  and 
went  home ;  but  the  voices,  as  he  thought,  followed  him  through  the  crowd, 
and  he  arrived  at  his  house  in  a  most  unenviable  state  of  mind.  Inclined  to 
ascribe  the  voices  to  derangement  in  mind,  he  sent  for  a  medical  attendant,  and 
told  his  case,  and  a  certain  kind  of  treatment  was  prescribed.  This,  however, 
failed;  the  voices  menacing  him  with  punishment  for  purely  imaginary  crimes 
continued,  and  he  was  reduced  to  the  brink  of  despair.  At  length  a  friend 
prescribed  entire  relaxation  from  business,  and  a  daily  game  of  cricket,  which, 
to  his  great  relief  proved  an  effectual  remedy.  The  exercise  banished  the 
phantom  voices,  and  they  were  no  more  heard." 

"So  you  think  that  I  am  in  need  of  out-door  exercise?" 

"Exactly." 

"  And  that  my  experience  was  ilhisory,  the  resuh  of  vertigo^ 
or  some  temporary  calenture  of  the  brain?" 

"  To  be  plain  with  you,  yes." 

"  But  I  asked  you  a  while  ago  if  specters  or  phantoms  ever 
leave  tangible  evidence  of  their  presence."  The  Professor's  eyes 
dilated  in  interrogation.  I  continued:  "Well,  this  one  did. 
After  I  had  followed  him  out,  I  found  on  the  table  a  long,  white 
hair,  which  I  still  have,"  and  producing  the  little  coil  from  my 
pocket-book,  I  handed  it  to  him.  He  examined  it  curiously, 
eyed  me  furtively,  and  handed  it  back  with  the  cautious  remark : 

"  I  think  you  had  better  commence  your  exercise  at  once." 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    SECOND    INTEPVIEW   WITH    THE    MYSTERIOUS    VISITOR. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  have  one's  mental  responsibility  brought 
in  question,  and  the  result  of  my  interview  with  Professor 
Chickeriug  was,  to  put  it  mildly,  unsatisfactory.  Not  that  he 
had  exactly  questioned  my  sanity,  but  it  was  all  too  evident  that 
he  was  disposed  to  accept  my  statement  of  a  plain  matter-of-fact 
occurrence  with  a  too  liberal  modicum  of  salt.  I  say  "  matter-of- 
fact  occurrence  "  in  full  knowledge  of  the  truth  that  I  myself 
had  at  first  regarded  the  whole  transaction  as  a  fantasia  or  flight 
of  mind,  the  result  of  extreme  nervous  tension ;  but  in  the 
interval  succeeding  I  had  abundant  opportunity  to  correlate  my 
thoughts,  and  to  bring  some  sort  of  order  out  of  the  mental  and 
physical  chaos  of  that  strange,  eventful  night.  True,  the 
preliminary  events  leading  up  to  it  were  extraordinary;  the 
dismal  weather,  the  depression  of  body  and  spirit  under  which 
I  labored,  the  wild  whirl  of  thought  keeping  pace  with  the 
elements  —  in  short,  a  general  concatenation  of  events  that 
seemed  to  be  ordered  especially  for  the  introduction  of  some 
abnormal  visitor — the  night  would  indeed  have  been  incomplete 
without  a  ghost!  But  was  it  a  ghost?  There  was  nothing 
ghostly  about  my  visitor,  except  the  manner  of  his  entrance  and 
exit.  In  other  respects,  he  seemed  substantial  enough.  He 
was,  in  his  manners,  courteous  and  polished  as  a  Chesterfield ; 
learned  as  a  savant  in  his  conversation ;  human  in  his  thought- 
ful regard  of  my  fears  and  misgivings;  but  that  tremendous 
forehead,  with  its  crown  of  silver  hair,  the  long,  translucent 
beard  of  pearly  whiteness,  and  above  all  the  astounding  facility 
with  which  he  read  my  hidden  thoughts — these  were  not  natural. 

The  Professor  had  been  patient  with  me — I  had  a  right 
to  expect  that ;  he  was  entertaining  to  the  extent  of  reading 
such  excerpts  as  he  had  with  him  on  the  subject  of  hallucina- 
tions and  their  supposed  causes,  but  had  he  not  spoiled  all  by 

28 


24  ETIDORHI'A. 

assigning  nie  at  last  to  a  place  with  the  qnestionable,  nnbal- 
anced  characters  he  had  cited  ?  I  thonght  so,  and  the  reflection 
provoked  nie ;  and  this  thonght  grew  npon  me  nntil  I  came  to 
reeard  his  stories  and  attendant  theories  as  so  much  literary 
trash. 

My  own  reflections  had  been  sober  and  deliberate,  and  had 
led  me  to  seek  a  rational  explanation  of  the  unusual  phenomena. 
I  had  gone  to  Professor  C bickering  for  a  certain  measure  of 
sympathy,  and  what  was  more  to  the  point,  to  secure  his 
suggestions  and  assistance  in  the  further  unraveling  of  a 
profound  mystery  that  might  contain  a  secret  of  untold  use  to 
humanity.  Repulsed  bv  the  mode  in  which  my  confidence  had 
been  received,  I  decided  to  do  what  I  should  have  done  from 
the  outset — to  keep  my  own  counsel,  and  to  follow  alone  the 
investigation  to  the  end,  no  matter  what  the  result  might  be. 
I  could  not  forget  or  ignore  the  silver  hair  I  had  so  religiously 
preserved.  That  was  genuine;  it  was  as  tangible,  as  real,  as 
convincing  a  witness  as  would  have  been  the  entire  head  of  my 
singular  visitant,  whatever  might  be  his  nature, 

I  began  to  feel  at  ease  the  moment  my  course  was  decided, 
and  the  feeling  was  at  once  renewed  within  me  that  the  gray 
head  would  come  again,  and  by  degrees  that  expectation  ripened 
into  a  desire,  only  intensified  as  the  days  sped  by.  The  weeks 
passed  into  months ;  summer  came  and  went ;  autumn  was  fast 
fading,  but  the  mysterious  unknown  did  not  appear.  A  curious 
fancy  led  me  now  to  regard  him  as  my  friend,  for  the  mixed 
and  indefinite  feelings  I  felt  at  first  towards  him  had  almost 
unaccountably  been  changed  to  those  of  sincere  regard.  He 
was  not  always  in  my  thoughts,  for  I  had  abundant  occupation 
at  all  times  to  keep  both  brain  and  hands  busy,  but  there  were 
few  evenings  in  which  I  did  not,  just  before  retiring,  give  myself 
up  for  a  brief  period  to  quiet  communion  with  my  own  thoughts, 
and  I  must  confess  at  such  times  the  unknown  occupied  the 
larger  share  of  attention.  The  constant  contemplation  of  any 
theme  begets  a  feeling  of  familiarity  or  acquaintance  with  the 
same,  and  if  that  subject  be  an  individual,  as  in  the  present 
instance,  such  contemplation  lessens  the  liability  to  surprise  from 
any  unexpected  development.  In  fact,  I  not  only  anticipated  a 
visit,  but  courted   it.     The  old  T^atin   maxim  that  T  had  played 


A  SECOND  INTKRVIEW.  25 

Avith,  "Never  less  alone  tliau  when  alone"  had  domiciled  itself 
Avithin  my  brain  as  a  permanent  lodger — a  conviction,  a  feeling 
rather  than  a  thonght  defined,  and  I  had  bnt  little  difficnlty  in 
associating  an  easy-chair  which  I  had  come  to  place  in  a  certain 
position  for  my  expected  visitor,  with  his  presence. 

Indian  snmmer  had  passed,  and  the  fall  was  nearly  gone 
when  for  some  inexplicable  reason  the  number  seven  began  to 
haunt  me.  What  had  I  to  do  with  seven,  or  seven  with  me? 
When  I  sat  down  at  night  this  persistent  number  mixed  itself  in 
my  thoughts,  to  my  intense  annoyance.  Bother  take  the  mystic 
numeral !  What  w^as  I  to  do  with  seven  ?  I  found  myself  asking 
this  question  audibly  one  evening,  when  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
me  that  I  would  refer  to  the  date  of  my  friend's  visit.  I  kept  no 
journal,  but  reference  to  a  record  of  some  business  transactions 
that  I  had  associated  with  that  event  showed  that  it  took  place 
on  November  seventh.  That  settled  the  importunate  seven !  I 
should  look  for  whomever  he  was  on  the  first  anniversary  of  his 
^isit,  w^iich  was  the  seventh,  now  close  at  hand.  The  instant  I 
had  reached  this  conclusion  the  number  left  me,  and  troubled 
me  no  more. 

November  third  had  passed,  the  fourth,  and  the  fifth  had 
come,  when  a  stubborn,  protesting  notion  entered  my  mind  that 
I  was  yielding  to  a  superstitious  idea,  and  that  it  was  time  to 
control  my  vacillating  will.  Accordingly  on  this  day  I  sent 
word  to  a  friend  that,  if  agreeable  to  him,  I  would  call  on  him 
on  the  evening  of  the  seventh  for  a  short  social  chat,  but  as  I 
expected  to  be  engaged  until  later  than  usual,  would  he  excuse 
me  if  I  did  not  reach  his  apartments  until  ten?  The  request 
was  singular,  but  as  I  was  now  accounted  somewhat  odd,  it 
excited  no  comment,  and  the  answer  was  returned,  requesting 
me  to  come.  The  seventh  of  November  came  at  last.  I  was 
iierv^ous  during  the  day,  which  seemed  to  drag  tediously, 
and  several  times  it  was  remarked  of  me  that  I  seemed 
abstracted  and  ill  at  ease,  but  I  held  my  peace.  Night  came 
cold  and  clear,  and  the  stars  shone  brighter  than  usual,  I 
thought.  It  was  a  sharp  contrast  to  the  night  of  a  year  ago. 
I  took  an  early  supper,  for  which  I  had  no  appetite,  after  which 
I  strolled  aimlessly  about  the  streets,  revolving  how  I  should 
put  in  the  time  till  ten  o'clock,  when  I  was  to  call  upon  m\- 


26  ETIDORHPA. 

friend.  I  decided  to  go  to  the  theater,  and  to  the  theater  I  went. 
The  play  was  spectacular,  "Aladdin  ;  or,  The  Wonderful  Lamp." 
The  entertainment,  to  me,  was  a  flat  failure,  for  I  was  busy  with 
my  thoughts,  and  it  was  not  long  until  my  thoughts  were  busy 
with  nic,  and  I  found  myself  attempting  to  answer  a  series  of 
questions  that  finally  became  embarrassing.  "  Why  did  you  make 
an  appointment  for  ten  o'clock  instead  of  eight,  if  you  wished 
to  keep  away  from  your  apartments?"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that 
before ;  it  was  stupid  to  a  degree,  if  not  ill-mannered,  and  I 
frankly  admitted  as  much.  "  Wh>'  did  you  make  an  appointment 
at  all,  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  you  not  only  expected  a 
visitor,  but  were  anxious  to  meet  him?"  This  was  easily 
answered :  because  I  did  not  wish  to  yield  to  what  struck  me  as 
superstition.  "  But  do  )ou  expect  to  extend  your  call  until 
morning?"  Well,  no,  I  hadn't  thought  or  arranged  to  do  so. 
"Well,  then,  what  is  to  prevent  your  expected  guest  from 
awaiting  your  return?  Or,  what  assurance  have  you  that  he 
will  not  encounter  you  in  the  street,  under  circumstances  that 
will  provoke  or,  at  the  least,  embarrass  you?"  None  whatever. 
"Then  what  have  you  gained  by  your  stupid  perversity?" 
Nothing,  beyond  the  assertion  of  my  own  individuality.  "  Why 
not  go  home  and  receive  your  guest  in  becoming  style?"  No;  I 
would  not  do  that.  I  had  started  on  this  course,  and  I  would 
persevere  in  it.  I  would  be  consistent.  And  so  I  persisted, 
at  least  until  nine  o'clock,  when  I  quit  the  theater  in  sullen 
dejection,  and  went  home  to  make  some  slight  preparation  for 
my  evening  call. 

With  my  latch-key  I  let  myself  into  the  front  door  of  the 
apartment  house  wherein  I  lodged,  walked  through  the  hall,  up 
the  staircase,  and  paused  on  the  threshold  of  my  room,  wondering 
what  I  would  find  inside.  Opening  the  door  I  entered,  leaving 
it  open  behind  me  so  that  the  light  from  the  hallway  would  shine 
into  the  room,  which  was  dark,  and  there  was  no  transom  above 
the  door.  The  grate  fire  had  caked  into  a  solid  mass  of  charred 
bituminous  coal,  which  shed  no  illumination  beyond  a  faint  red 
glow  at  the  bottom,  showing  that  it  was  barely  alive,  and  no 
more.  I  struck  a  match  on  the  underside  of  the  mantel  shelf, 
and  as  I  lit  the  gas  I  heard  the  click  of  the  door  latch.  I  turned 
instantly ;    the  door  had  been  gently  closed  ])>•  some  unknown 


A  vSECOND  INTlvRVlKW.  27 

force  if  not  by  unseen  hands,  for  there  was  no  breath  of  air 
stirring.  This  preternatiiral  interference  was  not  pleasant,  for  I 
had  hoped  in  the  event  of  another  visit  from  my  friend,  if  friend 
he  was,  that  he  would  bring  no  uncanny  or  ghostly  manifestation 
to  disturb  me.  I  looked  at  the  clock ;  the  index  pointed  to  half 
past  nine.  I  glanced  about  the  room ;  it  was  orderly,  everything 
in  proper  position,  even  to  the  arm-chair  that  I  had  been  wont  to 
place  for  my  nondescript  visitor.  It  was  time  to  be  going,  so  I 
turned  to  the  dressing  case,  brushed  my  hair,  put  on  a  clean  scarf, 
and  moved  towards  the  wash-stand,  which  stood  in  a  little  alcove 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  My  self-command  well-nigh 
deserted  me  as  I  did  so,  for  there,  in  the  arm-chair  that  a  moment 
before  was  empty,  sat  my  guest  of  a  year  ago,  facing  me  with 
placid  features !  The  room  began  to  revolve,  a  faint,  sick  feeling 
came  over  me,  and  I  reeled  into  the  first  convenient  chair,  and 
covered  my  face  with  my  hands.  This  depression  lasted  but  an 
instant,  however,  and  as  I  recovered  self-possession,  I  felt  or 
fancied  I  felt  a  pair  of  penetrating  eyes  fixed  upon  me  with 
the  same  mild,  searching  gaze  I  remembered  so  well.  I  ventured 
to  look  up ;  sure  enough,  there  they  were,  the  beaming  eyes,  and 
there  was  he !  Rising  from  his  chair,  he  towered  up  to  his  full 
height,  smiled  pleasantly,  and  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the 
head,  murmured:  "Permit  me  to  wish  you  good  evening;  I  am 
profoundly  glad  to  meet  you  again." 

It  was  full  a  minute  before  I  could  muster  courage  to  answer : 
"  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  myself" 

"And  why  shouldn't  you?"  he  said,  gently  and  courteously; 
"  you  have  realized,  for  the  past  six  months,  that  I  would  return ; 
more  than  that — you  have  known  for  some  time  the  very  day  and 
almost  the  exact  hour  of  my  coming,  have  even  wished  for  it, 
and,  in  the  face  of  all  this,  I  find  you  preparing  to  evade  the 
requirements  of  common  hospitality ; — are  you  doing  either  me 
or  yourself  justice?" 

I  was  nettled  at  the  knowledge  he  displayed  of  my  move- 
ments, and  of  my  very  thoughts;  my  old  stubbornness  asserted 
itself,  and  I  was  rude  enough  to  say:  "Perhaps  it  is  as  you  say; 
at  all  events,  I  am  obligated  to  keep  an  engagement,  and  with 
your  permission  will  now  retire." 


28  I-:TlI>()RHrA. 

It  was  curious  to  mark  the  effect  of  this  speech  upon  the 
intruder.  He  immediately  became  grave,  reached  quietly  into  an 
inner  pocket  of  his  coat,  drew  thence  the  same  glitteiing,  horrible, 
m\-sterious  knife  that  had  so  terrified  and  bewildered  me  a  year 
before,  and  looking  me  steadily  in  the  eye,  said  coldly,  yet  with  a 
certain  tone  of  sadness:  "Well,  I  will  not  grant  permission.  It 
is  unpleasant  to  resort  to  this  style  of  argument,  but  I  do  it  to 
save  time  and  controversy." 

I  stepped  hack  in  terror,  and  reached  for  the  old-fashioned 
bell-cord,  with  the  heavy  tassel  at  the  end,  that  depended  from 
the  ceiling,  and  was  on  the  point  of  grasping  and  giving  it  a 
vigorous  pull. 

"Not  so  fast,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  sternly,  as  he  stepped 
forvvard,  and  gave  the  knife  a  rapid  swish  through  the  air  above 
my  head,  causing  the  cord  to  fall  in  a  tangle  about  my  hand,  cut 
cleanly,  high  above  my  reach ! 

I  gazed  in  dumb  stupor  at  the  rope  about  my  hand,  and  raised 
my  eyes  to  the  remnant  above.  That  was  motionless ;  there  was 
not  the  slightest  perceptible  vibration,  such  as  would  naturally 
be  expected.  I  turned  to  look  at  my  guest;  he  had  resumed 
his  seat,  and  had  also  regained  his  pleasant  expression,  but  he 
still  held  the  knife  in  his  hand  with  his  arm  extended,  at  rest, 
upon  the  table,  which  stood  upon  his  right. 

"  Let  us  have  an  end  to  this  folly,"  he  said  ;  "  think  a  moment, 
and  you  will  see  that  you  are  in  fault.  Your  error  we  will  rectif}' 
easily,  and  then  to  business.  I  will  first  show  you  the  futility  of 
trying  to  escape  this  interview,  and  then  we  will  proceed  to  work, 
for  time  presses,  and  there  is  much  to  .do."  Having  delivered 
this  remark,  he  detached  a  single  silvery  hair  from  his  head,  blew 
it  from  his  fingers,  and  let  it  float  gently  upon  the  upturned  edge 
of  the  knife,  which  was  still  resting  on  the  table.  The  hair  was 
divided  as  readily  as  had  been  the  bell-cord.  I  was  transfixed 
with  astonishment,  for  he  had  evidently  aimed  to  exhibit  the 
quality  of  the  blade,  though  he  made  no  allusion  to  the  feat,  but 
smilingly  went  on  with  his  discourse:  "It  is  just  a  year  ago 
to-night  since  we  first  met.  Upon  that  occasion  you  made  an 
agreement  with  me  which  you  are  in  honor  bound  to  keep, 
and  " — here  he  paused  as  if  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words  upon 
me,  then  added  significantly—"  will  keep.     I  have  been  at  some 


THE   SAME  GLITTERING,    MYSTERIOUS   KNIFE. 


A  SECOND  INTERVIEW.  31 

pains  to  impress  upon  your  mind  the  fact  that  I  would  be  here 
to-night.  You  responded,  and  knew  that  I  was  coming,  and  yet 
in  obedience  to  a  silly  whim,  deliberately  made  a  meaningless 
engagement  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  violate  a  solemn 
obligation.  I  now  insist  that  you  keep  your  prior  engagement 
with  me,  but  I  do  not  wish  that  you  should  be  rude  to  your 
friend,  so  you  had  better  write  him  a  polite  note  excusing  your- 
self, and  dispatch  it  at  once." 

I  saw  that  he  was  right,  and  that  there  was  no  shadow  of 
justification  for  my  conduct,  or  at  least  I  was  subdued  by  his 
presence,  so  I  wrote  the  note  without  delay,  and  was  casting 
about  for  some  way  to  send  it,  when  he  said :  "  Fold  it,  seal  it, 
and  address  it;  you  seem  to  forget  what  is  proper."  I  did  as  he 
directed,  mechanically,  and,  without  thinking  what  I  was  doing, 
handed  it  to  him.  He  took  it  naturally,  glanced  at  the  super- 
scription, went  to  the  door  which  he  opened  slightly,  and  handed 
the  billet  as  if  to  some  messenger  who  seemed  to  be  in  waiting 
outside, — then  closed  and  locked  the  door.  Turning  toward  me 
with  the  apparent  object  of  seeing  if  I  was  looking,  he  deftly 
drew  his  knife  twice  across  the  front  of  the  door-knob,  making  a 
deep  cross,  and  then  deposited  the  knife  in  his  pocket,  and 
resumed  his  seat.  * 

As  soon  as  he  was  comfortably  seated,  he  again  began  the 
conversation :  "  Now  that  we  have  settled  the  preliminaries,  I 
will  ask  if  you  remember  what  I  required  of  you  a  year  ago?"  I 
thought  that  I  did,  "Please  repeat  it;  I  wish  to  make  sure  that 
you  do,  then  we  will  start  fair." 

"In  the  first  place,  you  were  to  present  me  with  a  manu- 
script"— 

"  Hardly  correct,"  he  interrupted ;  "  I  was  to  acquaint  you 
with  a  narrative  which  is  already  in  manuscript,  acquaint  }-ou 
with  it,  read  it  to  you,  if  you  preferred  not  to  read  it  to  me" — 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  answered;  "that  is  correct.  You 
were  to  read  the  manuscript  to  me,  and  during  the  reading  I  was 
to  interpose  such  comments,  remarks,  or  objections,  as  seemed 
proper ;  to  embod}'  as  interludes,  in  the  manuscript,  as  m>-  own 
interpolations,  however,  and  not  as  part  of  the  original." 


■'I  noted  afterward  that   the  door-knob,  which  was  of  solid   metal,  was  cut   deeply,  as 
thoujjh  made  of  putty. 


32 


KTIDORHI'A. 


"  Very  good,"  he  replied,  "  you  have  the  idea  exactly ;  proceed.'* 

"  I  agreed  that  when  the  reading  had  been  completed,  I  would 

seal  the  complete  manuscript  securely,  deposit  it  in  some  safe 

place,  there  to  remain  for  thirty  years,  when  it  must  be  published." 


"drew  his  knike  twice  across  the  eront  of  the  door-knob." 

"Just  so,"  he  answered;  "we  understand  each  other  as  we 
.should.  Before  we  proceed  further,  however,  can  you  think  of 
any  point  on  which  you  need  enlightenment?  If  so,  ask  such 
questions  as  you  choose,  and  I  will  answer  them." 

I  thought  for  a  moment,  but  no  query  occurred  to  me ;  after  a 
pause  he  .said:  "Well,  if  you  think  of  nothing  now,  perhaps 
hereafter  questions  will  occur  to  you  which  you  can  ask ;  but  as 
it  is  late,  and  you  arc  tired,  we  will  not  commence  now.      I  will 


A  vSRCOND  INTERVIEW.  33 

see  you  just  one  week  from  to-ni^^ht,  when  we  will  bei^in.  From 
that  time  on,  we  will  follow  the  subject  as  rapidly  as  you  choose, 
but  see  to  it  that  }'ou  make  no  engagements  that  will  interfere 
with  our  work,  for  I  shall  be  more  exacting  in  the  future."  I 
promised,  and  he  rose  to  go.  A  sudden  impulse  seized  me,  and  I 
said:  "  May  I  ask  one  question?" 

"  Certainly." 

"What  shall  I  call  you?" 

"Why  call  me  aught?  It  is  not  necessary  in  addressing  each 
other  that  any  name  be  used." 

"  But  what  are  you?"  I  persisted. 

A  pained  expression  for  an  instant  rested  upon  his  face,  and 
he  said,  sadly,  pausing  between  the  words :  "  I — Am — The — Man 
Who— Did— It." 

"Did  what?" 

"Ask  not;  the  manuscript  will  tell  you.  Be  content,  Llewel- 
lyn, and  remember  this,  that  I — Am — The — j\Ian." 

So  saying  he  bade  me  good  night,  opened  the  door,  and 
disappeared  down  the  broad  stair-case. 

One  week  thereafter  he  appeared  promptly,  seated  himself, 
and  producing  a  roll  of  manuscript,  handed  it  to  me,  saying,  "  I 
am  listening;  you  may  begin  to  read." 

On  examination  I  found  each  page  to  be  somewhat  larger 
than  a  sheet  of  letter  paper,  with  the  written  matter  occupying 
a  much  smaller  space,  so  as  to  leave  a  wide  white  border.  One 
hundred  pages  were  in  the  package.  The  last  sentence  ending 
abruptly  indicated  that  my  guest  did  not  expect  to  complete  his 
task  in  one  evening,  and,  I  may  anticipate  by  saying  that  with 
each  successive  interview  he  drew  about  the  same  amount  of 
writing  from  his  bosom.  Upon  attempting  to  read  the  manu- 
script I  at  first  found  myself  puzzled  by  a  style  of  chirography 
very  peculiar  and  characteristic,  but  execrably  bad.  Vainly  did  I 
attempt  to  read  it ;  even  the  opening  sentence  was  not  deciphered 
without  long  inspection  and  great  difficulty. 

The  old  man,  whom  I  had  promised  that  I  would  fulfill  the 
task,  observing  my  discomfiture,  relieved  me  of  the  charge,  and 
without  a  word  of  introduction,  read  fluently  as  follows: 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  OF  1— AM— THE— MAN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   SEARCH   FOR   KNOWLEDGE. — THE   AECHEMISTIC    LETTER. 

I  am  the  man  who,  unfortunately  for  my  future  liappiness, 
was  dissatisfied  with  such  knowledge  as  could  be  derived  from 
ordinary  books  concerning  semi-scientific  subjects  in  which  I  had 
long  been  absorbed.  I  studied  the  current  works  of  my  day 
on  philosophy  and  chemistry,  hoping  therein  to  find  something 
tangible  regarding  the  relationship  that  exists  between  matter 
and  spirit,  but  studied  in  vain.  Astronomy,  history,  philosophy 
and  the  mysterious,  incoherent  works  of  alchemy  and  occultism 
w^ere  finally  appealed  to,  but  likewise  failed  to  satisfy  me.  These 
studies  were  pursued  in  secret,  though  I  am  not  aware  tliat  any 
necessity  existed  for  concealment.  Be  that  as  it  may,  at  every 
opportunity  I  covertly  acquainted  myself  with  such  alchemical 
lore  as  could  be  obtained  either  by  purchase  or  by  correspondence 
with  others  whom  I  found  to  be  pursuing  investigations  in  the 
same  direction.  A  translation  of  Geber's  "  De  Claritate  Alclie- 
mise,"  by  chance  came  into  my  possession,  and  afterwards  an 
original  version  from  the  Latin  of  Bcerhaave's  "Elementa 
Chemioe,"  published  and  translated  in  1753  by  Peter  Shaw. 
This  magnificent  production  threw  a  flood  of  light  upon  the 
early  history  of  chemistry,  being  fiir  more  elaborate  than  any 
modern  work.  It  inspired  me  with  the  deepest  regard  for  its 
talented  author,  and  ultimately  introduced  me  to  a  brotherhood 
of  adepts,  for  in  this  publication,  although  its  author  disclaims 
occultism,  is  to  be  found  a  talisman  that  will  enable  any  earnest 
searcher  after  light  to  become  a  member  of  the  society  of  secret 
"Chemical  Improvers  of  Natural  Philosophy,"  with  which  I 
affiliated  as  soon  as  the  key  was  discovered.  Then  followed 
a   systematic    investigation    of   authorities    of    the    Alchemical 

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FAC-SIMILE   OF   PAGE   OF   MANTtSCRIPT. 


35 


A  SEARCH  FOR  KN0WLP:DGE.  37 

School,  including-  Geber,  Morienns,  Roger  Bacon,  George  Ripley, 
Raymond  Lnlly,  Bernard,  Count  of  Trevise,  Isaac  Hollandus, 
Arnoldus  de  la  Villanova,  Paracelsus,  and  others,  not  omitting 
the  learned  researches  of  the  distinguished  scientist,  Llewellyn. 

I  discovered  that  many  talented  men  are  still  firm  believers  in 
the  lost  art  of  alchemy,  and  that  among  the  followers  of  the 
"thrice-famed  Hermes"  are  to  be  found  statesmen,  clergymen, 
lawyers,  and  scientific  men  who,  for  various  reasons,  invariably 
conceal  with  great  tact  their  connection  with  the  fraternity  of 
adepts.  Some  of  these  men  had  written  scientific  treatises  of 
a  very  different  character  from  those  circulating  among  the 
members  of  our  brotherhood,  and  to  their  materialistic  read- 
ers it  would  seem  scarcely  possible  that  the  authors  could  be 
tainted  with  hallucinations  of  any  description,  while  others, 
conspicuous  leaders  in  the  church,  were  seemingly  beyond 
occult  temptation. 

The  larger  number,  it  was  evident,  hoped  by  studies  of  the 
works  of  the  alchemists,  to  find  the  key  to  the  alkahest  of  Van 
Helmont,  that  is,  to  discover  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  or  the 
Elixir  of  Life,  and  from  their  writings  it  is  plain  that  the  inner 
consciousness  of  thoughtful  and  scientific  men  rebelled  against 
•confinement  to  the  narrow  bounds  of  materialistic  science,  within 
which  they  were  forced  to  appear  as  dogmatic  pessimists.  To 
them  scientific  orthodoxy,  acting  as  a  weight,  prohibited  intel- 
lectual speculation,  as  rank  heresy.  A  few  of  my  co-laborers 
were  expert  manipulators,  and  worked  experimentally,  following 
in  their  laboratories  the  suggestions  of  those  gifted  students  who 
had  pored  over  precious  old  manuscripts,  and  had  attempted  to 
solve  the  enigmatical  formulas  recorded  therein,  puzzles  familiar 
to  students  of  Hermetic  lore.  It  was  thus  demonstrated, — for 
what  I  have  related  is  histor}', — that  in  this  nineteenth  century 
there  exists  a  fraternity,  the  members  of  which  are  as  earnest 
in  their  belief  in  the  truth  of  Esoteric  philosophy,  as  were  the 
followers  of  Hermes  himself;  savants  who,  in  secret,  circulate 
among  themselves  a  literature  that  the  materialism  of  this  self- 
same nineteenth  century  has  relegated  to  the  deluded  and  murky 
periods  that  produced  it. 

One  day  a  postal  package  came  to  my  address,  this  being  the 
manner  in  which  some  of  our  literature  circulated,  which,  on 


38  ETIDORHPA. 

examination,  I  fonnd  to  be  a  letter  of  instruction  and  advice 
from  some  unknown  member  of  our  circle.  I  was  alread\- 
becoming  disheartened  over  the  mental  confusion  into  which 
my  studies  were  leading  me,  and  the  contents  of  the  letter,  in 
which  I  was  greatly  interested,  made  a  lasting  impression  upon 
me.  It  seemed  to  have  been  circulating  a  long  time  among  our 
members  in  Europe  and  America,  for  it  bore  numerous  marginal 
notes  of  various  dates,  but  each  and  every  one  of  its  readers  had 
for  one  reason  or  another  declined  the  task  therein  suggested. 
From  the  substance  of  the  paper,  which,  written  exquisitely,  yet 
partook  of  the  ambiguous  alchemistic  style,  it  was  evident  that 
the  author  was  well  versed  in  alchemy,  and,  in  order  that  my 
position  may  be  clearly  understood  at  this  turning  point  in  a  life 
of  remarkable  adventure,  the  letter  is  appended  in  full : 

THE  ALCHEMISTIC   LETTER. 

TO   THE   BROTHER   ADEPT  WHO   DARES   TRY  TO    DISCOVER    ZOROASTER'S   CAVE,. 

OR  THE   philosopher's   INTELLECTUAL   ECHOES,  BY   MEANS   OF   WHICH 

THEY   COMMUNICATE   TO   ONE   ANOTHER   FROM   THEIR   CAVES. 

Know  thou,  that  Hermes  Trismegistus  did  not  originate,  but  he  gave  to 
our  philosophy  his  name — the  Hermetic  Art.  Evolved  in  a  dim,  mystic  age, 
before  antiquity  began,  it  endured  through  the  slowly  rolling  cycles  to  be 
bandied  about  by  the  ever-ready  flippancy  of  nineteenth  century  students.  It 
has  lived,  because  it  is  endowed  with  that  quality  which  never  dies — truth. 
Modern  philosophy,  of  which  chemistry  is  but  a  fragment,  draws  its  sustenance 
from  the  prime  facts  which  were  revealed  in  ancient  Egypt  through  Hermetic 
thought,  and  fixed  by  the  Hermetic  stylus. 

"The  Hermetic  allegories,"  so  various  in  interpretable  susceptibility,  led 
subsequent  thinkers  into  speculations  and  experimentations,  which  have 
resulted  profitablv  to  tlie  world.  It  is  not  strange  that  some  of  the  followers 
of  Hermes,  especially  the  more  mercurial  and  imaginative,  should  have  evolved 
nebulous  theories,  no  longer  explainable,  and  involving  recondite  spiritual 
considerations.  Know  thou  that  the  ultimate  on  psycho-chemical  investigation 
is  the  proximate  of  the  infinite.  Accordingly,  a  class  came  to  believe  that  a 
projection  of  natural  mental  faculties  into  an  advanced  state  of  consciousness 
called  the  "wisdom  faculty"  constitutes  the  final  possibility  of  Alchemy.  The 
attainment  of  this  exalted  condition  is  still  believed  practicable  by  many 
earnest  savants.  Once  on  this  lofty  plane,  the  individual  would  not  be  tram- 
melled by  material  obstacles,  but  would  abide  in  that  spiritual  placidit}-  which 
is  the  exquisite  realization  of  mortal  perfection.  So  exalted,  he  would  be  in 
naked  parallelism  with  Omniscience,  and  through  his  illuminated  understand- 
ing, could  feast  his  soul  on  those  exalted  pleasures  which  are  only  less  than 
deific. 

Notwithstanding  the  exploitings  of  a  number  of  these  philosophers,  in 
which,  by  reason  of  our  inabilitj-  to  comprehend,  sense  seemed  lost  in  a  passage 


A  SEARCH  FOR  KNOWLEDGK.  39 

of  iucohesive  dreamery  and  resonancy  of  terminology,  some  of  the  purest 
spiritual  researches  the  world  has  ever  known,  were  made  in  the  dawn  of 
history.  The  much  abused  alchemical  philosophers  existed  upon  a  plane,  in 
some  respects  above  the  level  of  the  science  of  to-day.  Many  of  them  lived 
for  the  good  of  the  world  only,  in  an  atmosphere  above  the  materialistic 
hordes  that  people  the  world,  and  toiling  over  their  crucibles  and  alembics, 
died  in  their  cells  "  uttering  no  voice."  Take,  for  example,  Eirena;us  Philalethes, 
who,  born  in  1623,  lived  contemporaneously  with  Robert  Boyle.  A  fragment 
from  his  writings  will  illustrate  the  purpose  which  impelled  the  searcher  for 
the  true  light  of  alchemy  to  record  his  discoveries  in  allegories,  and  we  have 
no  right  to  question  the  honesty  of  his  utterances : 

"The  Searcher  of  all  hearts  knows  that  I  write  the  truth;  nor  is  there  any 
cause  to  accuse  me  of  envy.  I  write  with  an  unterriiied  quill  in  an  unheard  of 
style,  to  the  honor  of  God,  to  the  profit  of  my  neighbors,  with  contempt  of  the 
world  and  its  riches,  because  Elias,  the  artist,  is  already  born,  and  now  glorious 
things  are  declared  of  the  city  of  God.  I  dare  affirm  that  I  do  possess  more 
riches  than  the  whole  known  world  is  worth,  but  I  can  not  make  use  of  it 
because  of  the  snares  of  knaves.  I  disdain,  loathe,  and  detest  the  idolizing  of 
silver  and  gold,  by  which  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world  are  celebrated. 
Ah !  filthy  evil !  Ah  !  vain  nothingness !  Believe  ye  that  I  conceal  the  art  out 
of  envy  ?  No,  verily,  I  protest  to  you ;  I  grieve  from  the  very  bottom  of  my 
soul  that  we  (alchemists)  are  driven  like  vagabonds  from  the  face  of  the  Lord 
throughout  the  earth.  But  what  need  of  many  words?  The  thing  that  we 
have  seen,  taught,  and  made,  which  we  have,  possess,  and  know,  that  we  do 
declare;  being  moved  with  compassion  for  the  studious,  and  with  indignation 
of  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones.  Believe  me,  the  time  is  at  the  door,  I  feel 
it  in  spirit,  when  we,  adeptists,  shall  return  from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth, 
nor  shall  we  fear  any  snares  that  are  laid  against  our  lives,  but  we  shall  give 
thanks  to  the  Lord  our  God.  I  would  to  God  that  every  ingenious  man  in  the 
whole  earth  understood  this  science;  then  it  would  be  valued  only  for  its 
wisdom,  and  virtue  only  would  be  had  in  honor." 

Of  course  there  was  a  more  worldly  class,  and  a  large  contingent  of  mer- 
cenary impostors  (as  science  is  always  encumbered),  parasites,  whose  animus 
was  shamefully  unlike  the  purity  of  true  esoteric  psychologists.  These  men 
devoted  their  lives  to  experimentation  for  selfish  advancement.  They  con- 
structed alchemical  outfits,  and  carried  on  a  ceaseless  inquiry  into  the  nature 
of  solvents,  and  studied  their  influences  on  earthly  bodies,  their  ultimate 
object  being  the  discovery  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  and  the  alkahest  which 
Boerhaave  asserts  was  never  discovered.  Their  records  were  often  a  verbose 
melange,  purposely  so  written,  no  doubt,  to  cover  their  tracks,  and  to  make 
themselves  conspicuous.  Other  Hermetic  believers  occupied  a  more  elevated 
position,  and  connected  the  intellectual  with  the  material,  hoping  to  gain  by 
their  philosophy  and  science  not  only  gold  and  silver,  which  were  secondary 
considerations,  but  the  highest  literary  achievement,  the  Magnum  Optis. 
Others  still  sought  to  draw  from  Astrology-  and  Magic  the  secrets  that  would 
lead  them  to  their  ambitious  goal.  Thus  there  were  degrees  of  fineness  in  a 
fraternity,  which  the  science  of  to-day  must  recognize  and  admit. 

Boerhaave,  the  illustrious,  respected  Geber,  of  the  alchemistic  school,  and 
none  need  feel  compromised  in  admiring  the  talented  alchemists  who,  like 


40  ETIDORHPA. 

Geber,  wrought  in  the  twilight  of  morn  for  the  coming  world's  good.  We  are 
now  enjoying  a  fragment  of  the  ultimate  results  of  their  genius  and  industry 
in  the  materialistic  outcomes  of  present-day  chemistry,  to  be  followed  by 
others  more  valuable;  and  at  last,  when  mankind  is  ripe  in  the  wisdom  faculty, 
by  spiritual  contentment  in  the  complacent  furtherings  beyond.  Allow  me 
briefly  to  refer  to  a  few  men  of  the  alchemistic  type  whose  records  may  be 
considered  with  advantage. 

Rhasis,  a  conspicuous  alchemist,  born  in  S50,  first  mentioned  orpiment, 
borax,  compounds  of  iron,  copper,  arsenic,  and  other  similar  substances.  It  is 
said,  too,  that  he  discovered  the  art  of  making  brandy.  About  a  century  later, 
Alfarabe  (killed  in  950),  a  great  alchemist,  astonished  the  King  of  Syria  with 
his  profound  learning,  and  excited  the  admiration  of  the  wise  men  of  the  East 
by  his  varied  accomplishments.  Later,  Albertus  Magnus  (born  1205),  noted  for 
his  talent  and  skill,  believed  firmly  in  the  doctrine  of  transmutation.  His 
beloved  pupil,  Thomas  Aquinas,  gave  us  the  word  amalgam,  and  it  still  serves 
us.  Contemporaneously  with  these  lived  Roger  Bacon  (born  12 14),  who  was  a 
man  of  most  extraordinary  ability.  There  has  never  been  a  greater  English 
intellect  (not  excepting  his  illustrious  namesake.  Lord  Bacon),  and  his  pene- 
trating mind  delved  deeper  into  nature's  laws  than  that  of  any  successor. 
He  told  us  of  facts  concerning  the  sciences,  that  scientific  men  can  not  fully 
comprehend  to-day;  he  told  us  of  other  things  that  lie  bej-ond  the  science 
provings  of  to-day,  that  modern  philosophers  can  not  grasp.  He  was  an 
enthusiastic  believer  in  the  Hermetic  philosophy,  and  such  were  his  erudition 
and  advanced  views,  that  his  brother  friars,  through  jealousy  and  superstition, 
had  him  thrown  into  prison — a  common  fate  to  men  who  in  those  days  dared 
to  think  ahead  of  their  age.  Despite  (as  some  would  say)  of  his  mighty 
reasoning  power  and  splendid  attainments,  he  believed  the  Philosopher's 
Stone  to  be  a  reality;  he  believed  the  secret  of  indefinite  prolongation  of  life 
abode  in  alchemy;  that  the  future  could  be  predicted  b}-  means  of  a  mirror 
which  he  called  Almuchese,  and  that  by  alchemy  an  adept  could  produce  pure 
gold.  He  asserted  that  b}^  means  of  Aristotle's  "Secret  of  Secrets,"  pure  gold 
can  be  made ;  gold  even  purer  and  finer  than  what  men  now  know  as  gold.  In 
connection  with  other  predictions  he  made  an  assertion  that  may  with  other 
seemingly  unreasonable  predictions  be  verified  in  time  to  come.  He  said:  "It 
is  equally  possible  to  construct  cars  which  may  be  set  in  motion  with  marvelous 
rapidity,  independently  of  horses  or  other  animals."  He  declared  that  the 
ancients  had  done  this,  and  he  believed  the  art  might  be  revived. 

Following  came  various  enthusiasts,  such  as  Raymond,  the  ephemeral 
(died  1315),  who  flared  like  a  meteor  into  his  brief,  brilliant  career;  Arnold  de 
Villanova  (1240),  a  celebrated  adept,  whose  books  were  burned  by  the  Inquisi- 
tion on  account  of  the  heresy  they  taught;  Nicholas  Flamel,  of  France  (1350), 
loved  by  the  people  for  his  charities,  the  wonder  of  his  age  (our  age  will  not 
admit  the  facts)  on  account  of  the  vast  fortune  he  amassed  without  visible 
means  or  income,  outside  of  alchemical  lore  ;  Johannes  de  Ruj^iecissus,  a  man 
of  such  remarkable  daring  that  he  even  (1357)  reprimanded  Pope  Innocent  VI., 
for  which  he  was  promptly  imprisoned;  Basil  Valentine  (1410),  the  author  of 
many  works,  and  the  man  who  introduced  antimony  (antimonaches)  into 
medicine;  Isaac  of  Holland  who,  with  his  son,  skillfully  made  artificial  gems 
that  could  not  be  distinguished   from   the  natural ;    Bernard  Trevison   (born 


A  SEARCH  FOR  KNOWLEDGE.  41 

1406),  who  spent  foo.ooo  in  the  study  of  alchemy,  out  of  much  of  which  he  was 
cheated  by  cruel  alchemic  pretenders,  for  even  in  that  day  there  were  plenty  of 
rogues  to  counterfeit  a  good  thing.  Under  stress  of  his  strong  alchemic 
convictions,  Thomas  Dalton  placed  his  head  on  the  block  by  order  of  the 
virtuous  (?)  and  conservative  Thomas  Herbert,  'squire  to  King  Edward;  Jacob 
Bohme  (born  1575),  the  sweet,  pure  spirit  of  Christian  mysticism,  "The  Voice 
of  Heaven,"  than  whom  none  stood  higher  in  true  alchemy,  was  a  Christian, 
alchemist,  theosophist ;  Robert  Boyle,  a  conspicuous  alchemical  philosopher, 
in  1662  published  his  "  Defense  of  the  Doctrine  touching  the  Spring  and 
Weight  of  the  Air,"  and  illustrated  his  arguments  by  a  series  of  ingenious 
and  beautiful  experiments,  that  stand  to-day  so  high  in  the  estimation  of 
scientific  men,  that  his  remarks  are  copied  verbatim  by  our  highest  authorities, 
and  his  apparatus  is  the  best  yet  devised  for  the  purpose.  Boyle's  "  Law  "  was 
evolved  and  carefully  defined  fourteen  years  before  Mariotte's  "  Discours  de  la 
Nature  de  1'  Air"  appeared,  which  did  not,  however,  prevent  French  and 
German  scientific  men  from  giving  the  credit  to  Mariotte,  and  they  still 
follow  the  false  teacher  who  boldly  pirated  not  only  Boyle's  ideas,  but  stole 
his  apparatus. 

Then  appeared  such  men  as  Paracelsus  (born  1493),  the  celebrated  physi- 
cian, who  taught  that  occultism  (esoteric  philosophy)  was  superior  to  experi- 
mental chemistry  in  enlightening  us  concerning  the  transmutation  of  baser 
metals  into  gold  and  silver ;  and  Gueppo  Francisco  (born  1627) ,  who  wrote  a 
beautiful  treatise  on  "  Elementary  Spirits,"  which  was  copied  without  credit  by 
Compte  de  Gabalis.  It  seems  incredible  that  the  man  (Gueppo  Francisco), 
whose  sweet  spirit-thoughts  are  revivified  and  breathe  anew  in  "  Undine  "  and 
*'  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,"  should  have  been  thrown  into  a  prison  to  perish  as 
a  Hermetic  follower ;  and  this  should  teach  us  not  to  question  the  earnestness 
of  those  who  left  us  as  a  legacy  the  beauty  and  truth  so  abundantly  found  in 
pure  alchemy. 

These  and  many  others,  cotemporaries,  some  conspicuous,  and  others 
whose  names  do  not  shine  in  written  history,  contributed  incalculably  to  the 
grand  aggregate  of  knowledge  concerning  the  divine  secret  which  enriched 
the  world.  Compare  the  benefits  of  Hermetic  philosophy  with  the  result  of 
bloody  wars  ambitiously  waged  by  self-exacting  tyrants — tyrants  whom  history 
applauds  as  heroes,  but  whom  we  consider  as  butchers.  Among  the  workers  in 
alchemy  are  enumerated  nobles,  kings,  and  even  popes.  Pope  John  XXH.  was 
an  alchemist,  which  accounts  for  his  bull  against  impostors,  promulgated  in 
order  that  true  students  might  not  be  discredited;  and  King  Frederick  of 
Naples  sanctioned  the  art,  and  protected  its  devotees. 

At  last.  Count  Cagliostro,  the  chequered  "Joseph  Balsamo  "  (born  1743), 
who  combined  alchemy,  magic,  astrology,  sleight  of  hand,  mesmerism,  Free 
Masonry,  and  remarkable  personal  accomplishments,  that  altogether  have 
never  since  been  equalled,  burst  upon  the  world.  Focusing  the  gaze  of 
the  church,  kings,  and  the  commons  upon  himself,  in  many  respects  the 
most  audacious  pretender  that  history  records,  he  raised  the  He-rmetic  art  to  a 
dazzling  height,  and  finally  buried  it  in  a  blaze  of  splendor  as  he  passed  from 
existence  beneath  a  mantle  of  shame.  As  a  meteor  streams  into  view  from  out 
the  star  mists  of  space,  and  in  corruscating  glorj-  sinks  into  the  sea.  Cagliostro 
blazed  into  the  sky  of  the  nineteenth  century,  from  the  nebuUe  of  alchemistic 


42  irnnoRHi'A. 

speculation,  and  extinguisheil  IxUli  himself  and  his  science  in  the  light  of  the 
rising  sun  of  materialism.  Cagliostro  the  visionary,  the  poet,  the  inspired,  the 
erratic  comet  in  the  universe  of  intellect,  perished  in  prison  as  a  mountebank, 
and  then  the  plodding  chemist  of  to-day,  with  his  tedious  mechanical  methods, 
and  cold,  unresponsive,  materialistic  dogmas,  arose  from  the  ashes,  and  sprang 
into  prominence. 

Read  the  story  backward,  and  you  shall  see  that  in  alchemy  we  behold  the 
beginning  of  all  the  sciences  of  to-day ;  alchemy  is  the  cradle  that  rocked 
them.  Fostered  with  necromancy,  astrologj',  occultism,  and  all  the  progeny  of 
mystic  dreamery,  the  infant  sciences  struggled  for  existence  through  the  dark 
ages,  in  care  of  the  once  persecuted  and  now  traduced  alchemist.  The  world 
owes  a  monument  to-day  more  to  Hermetic  heroes,  than  to  all  other  influences 
and  instrumentalities,  religion  excepted,  combined,  for  our  present  civilization 
is  largely  a  legacy  from  the  alchemist.  Begin  with  Hermes  Trismegistus,  and 
close  with  Joseph  Balsamo,  and  if  you  are  inclined  towards  science,  do  not 
criticise  too  severely  their  verbal  logorrhea,  and  their  romanticism,  for  your 
science  is  treading  backward;  it  will  encroach  upon  their  field  again,  and  you 
may  have  to  unsay  your  words  of  hasty  censure.  These  men  fulfilled  their 
mission,  and  did  it  well.  If  they  told  more  than  men  now  think  they  knew, 
they  also  knew  more  than  they  told,  and  more  than  modern  philosoph}^ 
embraces.  They  could  not  live  to  see  all  the  future  they  eagerly  hoped  for, 
but  they  started  a  future  for  mankind  that  will  far  exceed  in  sweetness  and 
light  the  most  entrancing  visions  of  their  most  imaginative  dreamers.  They 
spoke  of  the  existence  of  a  "  red  elixir,"  and  while  they  wrote,  the  barbarous 
world  about  them  ran  red  with  blood, — blood  of  the  pure  in  heart,  blood  of  the 
saints,  blood  of  a  Saviour;  and  their  allegory  and  wisdom  formuUe  were 
recorded  in  blood  of  their  own  sacrifices.  They  dreamed  of  a  "  white  elixir  " 
that  is  yet  to  bless  mankind,  and  a  brighter  day  for  man,  a  period  of  peace, 
happiness,  long  life,  contentment,  good  will  and  brotherly  love,  and  in  the 
name  of  this  "  white  elixir  "  they  directed  the  world  towards  a  vision  of  divine 
light.  Even  pure  gold,  as  they  told  the  materialistic  world  who  worship  gold, 
was  penetrated  and  whelmed  by  this  subtle,  superlatively  refined  spirit  of 
matter.  Is  not  the  day  of  the  allegorical  "white  elixir"  nearly  at  hand? 
Would  that  it  were  ! 

I  say  to  you  now,  brothers  of  the  nineteenth  century,  as  one  speaking  by 
authority  to  you,  cease  (some  of  you)  to  study  this  entrancing  past,  look  to  the 
future  by  grasping  the  present,  cast  aside  (some  of  you)  the  alchemical  lore  of 
other  days,  give  up  your  loved  allegories;  it  is  a  duty,  you  must  relincjuish 
them.  There  is  a  richer  field.  Do  not  delay.  Unlock  this  mystic  door  that 
stands  hinged  and  ready,  waiting  the  touch  of  men  who  can  interpret  the 
talisman ;  place  before  mankind  the  knowledge  that  lies  behind  its  rivets. 
In  the  secret  lodges  that  have  preserved  the  wisdom  of  the  days  of  Enoch  and 
l^lias  of  Egypt,  who  propagated  the  Egyptian  Order,  a  branch  of  your  ancient 
])rotherhood,  is  to  be  found  concealed  much  knowledge  that  should  now  be 
spread  before  the  world,  and  added  to  the  treasures  of  our  circle  of  adepts. 
This  cabalistic  wisdom  is  not  recorded  in  books  nor  in  manuscript,  but  has 
been  purposely  preserved  from  the  uninitiated,  in  the  unreadable  brains  of 
unresponsive  men.  Those  who  are  selected  to  act  as  carriers  thereof,  are,  as  a 
rule,  like  dumb  water  bearers,  or  the  dead  sheet  of  paper  that  mechanically 


A  SEARCH  FOR  KNOWI.KDGE.  43 

preserves  an  inspiration  derived  from  minds  unseen:  they  serve  a  purpose  as  a 
child  mechanically  commits  to  memory  a  blank  verse  to  repeat  to  others,  who 
in  turn  commit  to  repeat  again — neither  of  them  speaking  understandingly. 
Search  ye  these  hidden  paths,  for  the  day  of  mental  liberation  approaches,  and 
publish  to  the  world  all  that  is  locked  within  the  doors  of  that  antiquated 
organization.  The  world  is  nearly  ripe  for  the  wisdom  faculty,  and  men  are 
ready  to  unravel  the  golden  threads  that  mystic  wisdom  has  inwoven  in  her 
web  of  secret  knowledge.  Look  for  knowledge  where  I  have  indicated,  and 
to  gain  it  do  not  hesitate  to  swear  allegiance  to  this  sacred  order,  for  so  you 
must  do  to  gain  entrance  to  the  brotherhood,  and  then  you  must  act  what  men 
will  call  the  traitor.  You  will,  however,  be  doing  a  sacred  duty,  for  the  world 
will  profit,  humanit}-  will  be  the  gainer,  "  Peace  on  Earth,  Good  Will  to  Man," 
will  be  closer  to  mankind,  and  at  last,  when  the  sign  appears,  the  "  white  elixir  " 
will  no  longer  be  allegorical ;  it  will  become  a  reality.  In  the  name  of  the 
Great  M}'stic  Vase-Man,  go  thou  into  these  lodges,  learn  of  their  secrets,  and 
spread  their  treasures  before  those  who  can  interpret  them. 

Here  this  letter  ended.  It  was  evident  that  the  writer 
referred  to  a  secret  society  into  which  I  conld  probably  enter ; 
and  taking  the  advice,  I  did  not  hesitate,  but  applied  at  once 
for  membership.  I  determined,  regardless  of  consequence,  to 
follow  the  suggestion  of  the  unknown  writer,  and  by  so  doing, 
for  I  accepted  their  pledges,  I  invited  my  destiny. 

My  guest  of  the  massive  forehead  paused  for  a  moment, 
stroked  his  long,  white  beard,  and  then,  after  casting  an  inquir- 
ing glance  on  me,  asked,  "  Shall  I  read  on?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  and  The— Man— Who— Did— It,  proceeded 
as  follows : 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   WRITING   OF    MY   CONFESSION. 

Having  become  a  member  of  the  Secret  Society  as  directed 
by  the  writer  of  the  letter  I  have  just  read,  and  having  obtained 
the  secrets  hinted  at  in  the  mystic  directions,  my  next  desire 
was  to  find  a  sechided  spot  where,  without  interruption,  I  could 
prepare  for  publication  what  I  had  gathered  surreptitiously  in  the 
lodges  of  the  fraternity  I  designed  to  betray.  This  I  entitled 
"  My  Confession."  Alas!  why  did  my  evil  genius  prompt  me  to 
write  it?  Why  did  not  some  kind  angel  withhold  my  hand 
from  the  rash  and  wicked  deed?  All  I  can  urge  in  defense  or 
palliation  is  that  I  was  infatuated  by  the  fatal  words  of  the 
letter,  "  You  must  act  what  men  will  call  the  traitor,  but  humanity 
will  be  the  gainer." 

In  a  section  of  the  state  in  which  I  resided,  a  certain 
creek  forms  the  boundary  line  between  two  townships,  and  also 
between  two  counties.  Crossing  this  creek,  a  much  traveled 
road  stretches  east  and  west,  uniting  the  extremes  of  the  great 
state.  Two  villages  on  this  road,  about  four  miles  apart,  situated 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  creek,  also  present  themselves  to  my 
memory,  and  midway  between  them,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
road,  was  a  substantial  farm  house.  In  going  west  from  the 
easternmost  of  these  villages,  the  traveler  begins  to  descend 
from  the  very  center  of  the  town.  In  no  place  is  the  grade 
steep,  as  the  road  lies  between  the  spurs  of  the  hill  abutting 
upon  the  valley  that  feeds  the  creek  I  have  mentioned.  Having 
reached  the  valley,  the  road  winds  a  short  distance  to  the 
right,  then  turning  to  the  left,  crosses  the  stream,  and  imme- 
diately begins  to  climb  the  western  hill;  here  the  ascent  is 
more  difficult,  for  the  road  lies  diagonally  over  the  edge  of  the 
hill.  A  mile  of  travel,  as  I  recall  the  scene,  sometimes  up  a 
steep,  and  again  among  rich,  level  farm  lands,  and  then  on  the 
very  height,  close  to  the  road,  within  a  few  feet  of  it,  appears 

44 


THE  WRITING  OF  MY  CONFESSION.  45. 

the  square  structure  which  was,  at  the  time  I  uientiou,  known 
as  the  Stone  Tavern.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  were 
located  extensive  stables,  and  a  grain  barn.  In  the  northeast 
chamber  of  that  stone  building,  during  a  summer  in  the  twen- 
ties, I  wrote  for  publication  the  description  of  the  mystic  work 
that  my  oath  should  have  made  forever  a  secret,  a  sacred  trust. 
I  am  the  man  who  wantonly  committed  the  deplorable  act. 
Under  the  infatuation  of  that  alchemical  manuscript,  I  strove 
to  show  the  world  that  I  could  and  would  do  that  which  might 
never  benefit  me  in  the  least,  but  might  serve  humanity.  It 
was  fate.  I  was  not  a  bad  man,  neither  malignity,  avarice, 
nor  ambition  forming  a  part  of  my  nature.  I  was  a  close 
student,  of  a  rather  retiring  disposition,  a  stone-mason  by  trade, 
careless  and  indifferent  to  public  honors,  and  so  thriftless  that 
many  trifling  neighborhood  debts  had  accumulated  against  me. 
What  I  have  reluctantly  told,  for  I  am  forbidden  to  give  the 
names  of  the  localities,  comprises  an  abstract  of  part  of  the 
record  of  my  early  life,  and  will  introduce  the  extraordinary 
narrative  which  follow^s.  That  I  have  spoken  the  truth,  and  in 
no  manner  overdrawn,  will  be  silently  evidenced  by  hundreds 
of  brethren,  both  of  the  occult  society  and  the  fraternal  brother- 
hood, with  which  I  united,  who  can  (if  they  will)  testify  to  the 
accuracy  of  the  narrative.  They  know  the  story  of  my  crime 
and  disgrace ;  only  myself  and  God  know  the  full  retribution 
that  followed. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

KIDNAPPED. 

The  events  just  narrated  occurred  in  the  prime  of  my  life,  and 
are  partly  matters  of  publicity.  IMy  attempted  breach  of  faith  in 
the  way  of  disclosing  their  secrets  was  naturally  infamous  in  the 
eyes  of  my  society  brethren,  who  endeavored  to  prevail  upon  me 
to  relent  of  my  design  which,  after  writing  my  "  Confession,"  I 
made  no  endeavor  to  conceal.  Their  importunities  and  threaten- 
ings  had  generally  been  resisted,  however,  and  with  an  obliquity 
that  can  not  be  easily  explained,  I  persisted  in  my  unreasonable 
design.  I  was  blessed  as  a  husband  and  father,  but  neither  the 
thought  of  home,  wife,  nor  child,  checked  me  in  my  inexplicable 
course.  I  was  certainly  irresponsible,  perhaps  a  monomaniac, 
and  yet  on  the  subject  in  which  I  was  absorbed,  I  preserved  nn- 
mental  equipoise,  and  knowingly  followed  a  course  that  finally 
brought  me  into  the  deepest  slough  of  trouble,  and  lost  to  me 
forever  all  that  man  loves  most  dearly.  An  overruling  spirit, 
perhaps  the  shade  of  one  of  the  old  alchemists,  possessed  me, 
and  in  the  face  of  obstacles  that  would  have  caused  most  men 
to  reflect,  and  retrace  their  steps,  I  madly  rushed  onward.  The 
influence  that  impelled  me,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  was  irre- 
sistible. I  apparently  acted  the  part  of  agent,  subject  to  an 
ever-present  master  essence,  and  under  this  dominating  spirit 
or  demon  my  mind  was  powerless  in  its  subjection.  IMy  soul 
was  driven  imperiously  by  that  impelling  and  indescribable 
something,  and  was  as  passive  and  irresponsible  as  lycopodium 
that  is  borne  onward  in  a  steady  current  of  air.  ]Methods  were 
vainly  sought  by  those  whg  loved  me,  brethren  of  the  lodge,  and 
others  who  endeavored  to  induce  me  to  change  my  headstrong 
purpose,  but  I  could  neither  accept  their  counsels  nor  heed  their 
forebodings.  Summons  by  law  were  served  on  me  in  order 
to  disconcert  me,  and  my  numerous  small  debts  became  the 
pretext  for  legal  warrants,  until  at  last  all  luv  ]xi])ers  (excepting 

46 


"my  arms  were  firmly  grasped  by  two  persons." 

=M7 


KIDNAPPKI).  47 

my  "  Confession  "),  and  my  person  also,  were  seized,  upon  an  exe- 
cntion  served  by  a  constable.  Minor  claims  were  quickly  satisfied, 
but  when  I  regained  n\\  liberty,  the  aggression  continued.  Even 
arson  was  resorted  to,  and  the  printing  office  that  held  my  manu- 
script was  fired  one  night,  that  the  obnoxious  revelation  which  I 
persisted  in  putting  into  print,  might  be  destroyed.  Finally  I 
found  myself  separated  by  process  of  law  from  home  and  friends, 
an  inmate  of  a  jail.  My  opponents,  as  I  now  came  to  consider 
them,  had  confined  me  in  prison  for  a  debt  of  only  two  dollars, 
a  sufficient  amount  at  that  time,  in  that  state,  for  my  incarcer- 
ation. Smarting  under  the  humiliation,  my  spirit  became  still 
more  rebellious,  and  I  now,  perhaps  justly,  came  to  view  myself 
as  a  martyr.  It  had  been  at  first  asserted  that  I  had  stolen  a 
shirt,  but  I  was  not  afraid  of  any  penalty  that  could  be  laid  on 
me  for  this  trumped-up  charge,  believing  that  the  imputation 
and  the  arrest  would  be  shown  to  be  designed  as  willful  oppres- 
sion. Therefore  it  was,  that  when  this  contemptible  arraignment 
had  been  swept  aside,  and  I  was  freed  before  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  I  experienced  more  than  a  little  surprise  at  a  rearrest, 
and  at  finding  myself  again  thrown  into  jail.  I  knew  that  it 
had  been  decreed  by  ni}-  brethren  that  I  must  retract  and  destroy 
my  "Confession,"  and  this  fact  made  me  the  more  determined  to 
prevent  its  destruction,  and  I  persisted  sullenly  in  pursuing  my 
course.  On  the  evening  of  August  12th,  1826,  my  jailer's  wife 
informed  me  that  the  debt  for  which  I  had  been  incarcerated  had 
been  paid  by  unknowm  "  friends,"  and  that  I  could  depart ;  and  I 
accepted  the  statement  without  question.  Upon  my  stepping 
from  the  door  of  the  jail,  however,  my  arms  were  firmly  grasped 
by  two  persons,  one  on  each  side  of  me,  and  before  I  could  realize 
the  fact  that  I  was  being  kidnapped,  I  was  thrust  into  a  closed 
coach,  which  immediately  rolled  away,  but  not  until  I  made  an 
outcry  which,  if  heard  by  anyone,  was  unheeded. 

"  For  your  own  sake,  be  quiet,"  said  one  of  my  companions 
in  confinement,  for  the  carriage  was  draped  to  exclude  the  light, 
and  was  as  dark  as  a  dungeon.  My  spirit  rebelled ;  I  felt  that  I 
was  on  the  brink  of  a  remarkable,  perhaps  perilous  experience, 
and  I  indignantly  replied  by  asking : 

"What  have  I  done  that  you  should  presume  forcibly  to 
imprison  me?     Am  I  not  a  freeman  of  America?" 


48  KTlDORHrA. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?"  he  answered.  "  Have  you  not  bound 
yourself  by  a  series  of  vows  that  are  sacred  and  should  be 
inviolable,  and  have  you  not  broken  them  as  no  other  man  has 
done  before  you?  Have  you  not  betrayed  your  trust,  and 
merited  a  severe  judgment?  Did  you  not  voluntarily  ask 
admission  into  our  ancient  brotherhood,  and  in  good  faith 
were  you  not  initiated  into  our  sacred  mysteries?  Did  )ou 
not  obligate  yourself  before  man,  and  on  your  sacred  honor 
promise  to  preserve  our  secrets?" 

"I  did,"  I  replied;  "but  previously  I  had  sworn  before  a 
higher  tribunal  to  scatter  this  precious  wisdom  to  the  world." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  and  you  know  full  well  the  depth  of  the 
self-sought  solemn  oath  that  you  took  with  us — more  solemn 
than  that  prescribed  by  any  open  court  on  earth." 

"  This  I  do  not  deny,"  I  said,  "  and  yet  I  am  glad  that  I  Accom- 
plished my  object,  even  though  you  have  now,  as  is  evident,  the 
power  to  pronounce  my  sentence." 

"You  should  look  for  the  death  sentence,"  was  the  reply,  "but 
it  has  been  ordained  instead  that  you  are  to  be  given  a  lengthened 
life.  You  should  expect  bodily  destruction ;  but  on  the  contrary, 
you  will  pass  on  in  consciousness  of  earth  and  earthly  concerns 
when  we  are  gone.  Your  name  will  be  known  to  all  lands,  and 
yet  from  this  time  you  will  be  unknown.  For  the  welfare  of 
future  humanity,  you  will  be  thrust  to  a  height  in  our  order  that 
will  annihilate  you  as  a  mortal  being,  and  yet  you  will  exist, 
suspended  between  life  and  death,  and  in  that  intermediate  state 
will  know  that  you  exist.  You  have,  as  you  confess,  merited  a 
severe  punishment,  but  we  can  only  punish  in  accordance  with 
an  unwritten  law,  that  instructs  the  person  punished,  and  elevates 
the  human  race  in  consequence.  You  stand  alone  among  mortals 
in  that  you  have  openly  attempted  to  give  broadly  to  those  who 
have  not  earned  it,  our  most  sacred  property,  a  property  that  did 
not  belong  to  you,  property  that  you  have  only  been  permitted 
to  handle,  that  has  been  handed  from  man  to  man  from  before 
the  time  of  Solomon,  and  which  belongs  to  no  one  man,  and  will 
continue  to  pass  in  this  way  from  one  to  another,  as  a  hallowed 
trust,  until  there  are  no  men,  as  men  now  exist,  to  receive  it. 
You  will  soon  go  into  the  shadows  of  darkness,  and  will  learn 
many  of  the  mysteries  of  life,  the  undeveloped   mysteries  that 


KIDNAPPKD.  49 

are  withheld  from  your  fellows,  but  which  you,  who  have  been 
so  presumptuous  and  anxious  for  knowledge,  are  destined  to 
possess  and  solve.  You  will  find  secrets  that  man,  as  man  is 
now  constituted,  can  not  yet  discover,  and  yet  which  the  future 
man  must  gain  and  be  instructed  in.  As  you  have  sowed,  so 
shall  you  reap.  You  wished  to  become  a  distributor  of  knowl- 
edge ;  you  shall  now  by  bodily  trial  and  mental  suffering  obtain 
unsought  knowledge  to  distribute,  and  in  time  to  come  you  will 
be  commanded  to  make  your  discoveries  known.  As  your  path- 
way is  surely  laid  out,  so  must  you  walk.  It  is  ordained ;  to  rebel 
is  useless." 

"  Who  has  pronounced  this  sentence?"  I  asked. 

"A  judge,  neither  of  heaven  nor  of  earth." 

"You  speak  in  enigmas." 

"No;  I  speak  openly,  and  the  truth.  Our  brotherhood  is 
linked  with  the  past,  and  clasps  hands  with  the  antediluvians; 
the  flood  scattered  the  races  of  earth,  but  did  not  disturb  our 
secrets.  The  great  love  of  wisdom  has  from  generation  to 
generation  led  selected  members  of  our  organization  to  depths 
of  study  that  our  open  work  does  not  touch  upon,  and  behind 
our  highest  officers  there  stand,  in  the  occult  shades  between 
the  here  and  the  hereafter,  unknown  and  unseen  agents  who 
are  initiated  into  secrets  above  and  beyond  those  known  to  the 
ordinary  craft.  Those  who  are  introduced  into  these  inner 
recesses  acquire  superhuman  conceptions,  and  do  not  give  an 
open  sign  of  fellowship ;  they  need  no  talisman.  They  walk 
our  streets  possessed  of  powers  unknown  to  men,  they  concern 
themselves  as  mortals  in  the  affairs  of  men,  and  even  their  breth- 
ren of  the  initiated,  open  order  are  unaware  of  their  exalted 
condition.  The  means  by  which  they  have  been  instructed,  their 
several  individualities  as  well,  have  been  concealed,  because 
publicity  would  destroy  their  value,  and  injure  humanity's  cause." 

Silence  followed  these  vague  disclosures,  and  the  carriage 
rolled  on.  I  was  mystified  and  alarmed,  and  yet  I  knew  that, 
whatever  might  be  the  end  of  this  nocturnal  ride,  I  had  invited 
it — yes,  merited  it — and  I  steeled  myself  to  hear  the  sentence  of 
my  judges,  in  whose  hands  I  was  powerless.  The  persons  on 
the  seat  opposite  me  continued  their  conversation  in  low  tones, 
audible  only  to  themselves.     An  individual  by  my  side  neither 

3 


50  KTIDORHPA. 

moved  nor  spoke.  There  were  four  of  us  in  the  carriage,  as  I 
learned  intuitively,  although  we  were  surrounded  by  utter  dark- 
ness. At  length  I  addressed  the  companion  beside  me,  for  the 
silence  was  unbearable.  Friend  or  enemy  though  he  might  be, 
anything  rather  than  this  long  silence.  "  How  long  shall  we 
continue  in  this  carriage?" 

He  made  no  reply. 

After  a  time  I  again  spoke. 

"  Can  you  not  tell  me,  comrade,  how  long  our  journey  will 
last?     When  shall  we  reach  our  destination?" 

Silence  only. 

Putting  out  my  hand,  I  ventured  to  touch  my  mate,  and 
found  that  he  was  tightly  strapped, — bound  upright  to  the  seat 
and  the  back  of  the  carriage.  Leather  thongs  held  him  firmly 
in  position;  and  as  I  pondered  over  the  mystery,  I  thought  to 
myself,  if  I  make  a  disturbance,  they  will  not  hesitate  to  manacle 
me  as  securely.  My  custodians  seemed,  however,  not  to  exercise 
a  guard  over  me,  and  yet  I  felt  that  they  were  certain  of  my 
inability  to  escape.  If  the  man  on  the  seat  was  a  prisoner,  why 
was  he  so  reticent?  why  did  he  not  answer  my  questions?  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be  gagged  as  well  as  bound. 
Then  I  determined  to  find  out  if  this  were  so,  I  began  to  realize 
more  forcibly  that  a  terrible  sentence  must  have  been  meted  me, 
and  I  half  hoped  that  I  could  get  from  my  partner  in  captivity 
some  information  regarding  our  destination.  Sliding  my  hand 
cautiously  along  his  chest,  and  under  his  chin,  I  intended  to 
remove  the  gag  from  his  mouth,  when  I  felt  my  flesh  creep,  for 
it  came  in  contact  with  the  cold,  rigid  flesh  of  a  corpse.  The 
man  was  dead,  and  stiff". 

The  shock  unnerved  me.  I  had  begun  to  experience  tlie 
results  of  a  severe  mental  strain,  partly  induced  by  the  recent 
imprisonment  and  extended  previous  persecution,  and  partly 
by  the  mysterious  significance  of  the  language  in  which  I  had 
recently  been  addressed.  The  sentence,  "You  will  now  go  into 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  learn  the  mysteries  of 
life,"  kept  ringing  through  my  head,  and  even  then  I  sat  beside 
a  corpse.  After  this  discovery  I  remained  for  a  time  in  a  semi- 
stupor,  in  a  state  of  profound  dejection, — how  long  I  can  not  say. 
Then  I  experienced  an  inexplicable  change,  such  as  I  imagine 


KIDNAPPED.  51 

comes  over  a  condemned  man  without  hope  of  reprieve,  and 
I  became  unconcerned  as  a  man  might  who  had  accepted  his 
destiny,  and  stoically  determined  to  await  it.  Perhaps  moments 
passed,  it  may  have  been  hours,  and  then  indifference  gave  place 
to  reviving  curiosity.  I  realized  that  I  could  die  only  once,  and 
I  coolly  and  complacently  revolved  the  matter,  speculating  over 
my  possible  fate.  As  I  look  back  on  the  night  in. which  I  rode 
beside  that  dead  man,  facing  the  mysterious  agents  of  an  all- 
powerful  judge,  I  marvel  over  a  mental  condition  that  permitted 
me  finally  to  rest  in  peace,  and  slumber  in  unconcern.  So  I  did, 
however,  and  after  a  period,  the  length  of  which  I  am  not  able 
to  estimate,  I  awoke,  and  soon  thereafter  the  carriage  stopped, 
and  our  horses  were  changed,  after  which  our  journey  was 
resumed,  to  continue  hour  after  hour,  and  at  last  I  slept  again, 
leaning  back  in  the  corner.  Suddenly  I  was  violently  shaken 
from  slumber,  and  commanded  to  alight.  It  was  in  the  gray  of 
morning,  and  before  I  could  realize  what  was  happening,  I  was 
transferred  by  my  captors  to  another  carriage,  and  the  dead  man 
also  was  rudely  hustled  along  and  thrust  beside  me,  my  compan- 
ions speaking  to  him  as  though  he  were  alive.  Indeed,  as  I  look 
back  on  these  maneuvers,  I  perceive  that,  to  all  appearances, 
I  was  one  of  the  abducting  party,  and  our  actions  were  really 
such  as  to  induce  an  observer  to  believe  that  this  dead  man 
Avas  an  obstinate  prisoner,  and  myself  one  of  his  official  guards. 
The  drivers  of  the  carriages  seemed  to  give  us  no  attention,  but 
they  sat  upright  and  unconcerned,  and  certainly  neither  of  them 
interested  himself  in  our  transfer.  The  second  carriage,  like  that 
other  previously  described,  was  securely  closed,  and  our  journey 
was  continued.  The  darkness  was  as  of  a  dungeon.  It  may 
have  been  days,  I  could  not  tell  anything  about  the  passage  of 
time ;  on  and  on  we  rode.  Occasionally  food  and  drink  were 
handed  in,  but  my  captors  held  to  their  course,  and  at  last  I  was 
taken  from  the  vehicle,  and  transferred  to  a  block-house. 

I  had  been  carried  rapidly  and  in  secret  a  hundred  or  more 
miles,  perhaps  into  another  state,  and  probably  all  traces  of  my 
journey  were  effectually  lost  to  outsiders.  I  was  in  the  hands  of 
men  who  implicitly  obeyed  the  orders  of  their  superiors,  masters 
whom  they  had  never  seen,  and  probably  did  not  know.  I  needed 
no  reminder  of  the  fact  that  I  had  violated  every  sacred  pledge 


52 


ETIDORHPA. 


voluntarily  made  to  the  craft,  and  now  that  they  held  ine  power- 
less, I  well  knew  that,  whatever  the  punishment  assigned,  I  had 
invited  it,  and  could  not  prevent  its  fulfillment.  That  it  would 
be  severe,  I  realized;  that  it  would  not  be  in  accordance  with 
ordinary  human  law,  I  accepted. 

Had  I  not  in  secret,  in  my  little  room  in  that  obscure  Stone 
Tavern,   engrossed   on  paper   the  mystic  sentences  that  never 


"  I  WAS   TAKEN    FROM    THE  VEHICLE,  AND    TRANSFERRED   TO  A   BLOCK-HOUSE." 


before  had  been  penned,  and  were  unknown  excepting  to  per- 
sons initiated  into  our  sacred  mysteries?  Had  I  not  previously, 
in  the  most  solemn  manner,  before  these  words  had  been  imparted 
to  my  keeping,  sworn  to  keep  them  inviolate  and  secret?  and 
had  I  not  deliberately  broken  that  sacred  vow,  and  scattered  the 
hoarded  sentences  broadcast?  My  part  as  a  brother  in  this 
fraternal  organization  was  that  of  the  holder  only  of  property 
that  belonged  to  no  man,  that  had  been  handed  from  one  to 
another  through  the  ages,  sacredly  cherished,  and  faithfully 
protected  by  men  of  many  tongues,  always  considered  a  trust. 


KIDNAPPED.  53 

a  charge  of  honor,  and  never  before  betrayed.     My  crime  was 
deep  and  dark.     I  shnddered. 

"Come  what  may,"  I  mused,  reflecting  over  my  perfidy,  "I 
am  ready  for  the  penalty,  and  my  fate  is  deserved ;  it  can  not  but 
be  a  righteous  one." 

The  words  of  the  occupant  of  the  carriage  occurred  to  me 
again  and  again ;  that  one  sentence  kept  ringing  in  my  brain ;  I 
could  not  dismiss  it :  "  You  have  been  tried,  convicted,  and  we 
are  of  those  appointed  to  carry  out  the  sentence  of  the  judges." 

The  black  silence  of  my  lonely  cell  beat  against  me ;  I  could 
feel  the  absence  of  sound,  I  could  feel  the  dismal  weight  of 
nothingness,  and  in  my  solitude  and  distraction  I  cried  out  in 
anguish  to  the  invisible  judge :  "  I  am  ready  for  my  sentence, 
whether  it  be  death  or  imprisonment  for  life " ;  and  still  the 
further  words  of  the  occupant  of  the  carriage  passed  through 
my  mind :  "  You  will  now  go  into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  and  will  learn  the  mysteries  of  Life." 

Then  I  slept,  to  awake  and  sleep  again.  I  kept  no  note 
of  time;  it  may  have  been  days  or  weeks,  so  far  as  my  record 
could  determine.  An  attendant  came  at  intervals  to  minister  to 
Ttiy  wants,  always  masked  completely,  ever  silent. 

That  I  was  not  entirely  separated  from  mankind,  however,  I 
felt  assured,  for  occasionally  sounds  of  voices  came  to  me  from 
■without.  Once  I  ventured  to  shout  aloud,  hoping  to  attract 
attention ;  but  the  persons  whom  I  felt  assured  overheard  me, 
paid  no  attention  to  my  lonely  cry.  At  last  one  night,  my  door 
opened  abruptly,  and  three  men  entered. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  their  spokesman,  "  we  aim  to  protect  you  ; 
keep  still,  and  soon  you  will  be  a  free  man." 

I  consented  quietly  to  accompany  them,  for  to  refuse  would 
have  been  in  vain ;  and  I  was  conducted  to  a  boat,  which  I  found 
contained  a  corpse — the  one  I  had  journeyed  with,  I  suppose — 
and  embarking,  we  were  silently  rowed  to  the  middle  of  the  river, 
our  course  being  diagonally  from  the  shore,  and  the  dead  man 
was  thrown  overboard.  Then  our  boat  returned  to  the  desolate 
"bank. 

Thrusting  me  into  a  carriage,  that,  on  our  return  to  the  river 
bank  we  found  awaiting  us,  my  captors  gave  a  signal,  and  I  was 
driven  away  in  the  darkness,  as  silently  as  before,  and  our  journey 


54 


ETIDORHI'A. 


was  continued  I  believe  for  fulh-  two  days.  I  was  again  confined 
in  another  log  cabin,  with  but  one  door,  and  destitute  of  windows. 
]\Iy  attendants  were  masked,  they  neither  spoke  to  me  as  they 
day  after  day  supplied  my  wants,  nor  did  they  give  me  the  least 
information  on  any  subject,  until  at  last  I  abandoned  all  hope  of 
ever  regaining  m\-  liberty. 


THE    DEAD    MAN   WAS   THROWN   OVERBOARD." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   WILD    NIGHT. — I    AM    PREMATURELY    AGED. 

In  the  depths  of  night  I  was  awakened  by  a  noise  made  by 
the  opening  of  a  door,  and  one  by  one  seven  masked  fignres 
silently  stalked  into  my  prison.  Each  bore  a  lighted  torch,  and 
they  passed  me  as  I  lay  on  the  floor  in  my  clothes  (for  I  had 
no  bedding),  and  ranged  themselves  in  a  line.  I  arose,  and 
seated  myself  as  directed  to  do,  npon  the  only  stool  in  the  room. 
Swinging  into  a  semi-circle,  the  weird  line  wound  about  me,  and 
from  the  one  seat  on  which  I  rested  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
I  gazed  successively  upon  seven  pairs  of  gleaming  eyes,  each 
pair  directed  at  myself;  and  as  I  turned  from  one  to  another, 
the  black  cowl  of  each  deepened  into  darkness,  and  grew  more 
hideous. 

"  Men  or  devils,"  I  cried,  "  do  your  worst !  Make  me,  if  such 
is  your  will,  as  that  sunken  corpse  beside  which  I  was  once 
seated;  but  cease  your  persecutions.  I  have  atoned  for  my 
indiscretions  a  thousand  fold,  and  this  suspense  is  unbearable; 
I  demand  to  know  what  is  to  be  my  doom,  and  I  desire  its 
fulfilment." 

Then  one  stepped  forward,  facing  me  squarely, — the  others 
closed  together  around  him  and  me.  Raising  his  forefinger,  he 
pointed  it  close  to  my  face,  and  as  his  sharp  eyes  glittered  from 
behind  the  black  mask,  piercing  through  me,  he  slowly  said: 
''Why  do  you  not  say  brothers?" 

"Horrible,"  I  rejoined;  "stop  this  mockery.  Have  I  not 
suffered  enough  from  your  persecutions  to  make  me  reject  that 
word  as  applied  to  yourselves  ?  You  can  but  murder ;  do  your 
duty  to  your  unseen  masters,  and  end  this  prolonged  torture !" 

"Brother,"  said  the  spokesman,  "you  well  know  that  the 
sacred  rules  of  our  order  will  not  permit  us  to  murder  any 
human  being.  We  exist  to  benefit  humanity,  to  lead  the  way- 
ward back  across  the  burning  desert,  into  the  pathways  of  the 

5  55 


56  ETIDORHPA. 

righteous ;  not  to  destroy  or  persecute  a  brother.  Ours  is  an 
eleemosynary  institution,  instructing  its  members,  helping  them 
to  seek  happiness.  You  are  now  expiating  the  crime  you  have 
committed,  and  the  good  in  your  spirit  rightfully  revolts  against 
the  bad,  for  in  (li\ulging  to  the  world  our  mystic  signs  and 
brotherly  greetings,  you  have  sinned  against  yourself  more  than 
against  others.  The  sting  of  conscience,  the  bitings  of  remorse 
punish  you." 

"  True,"  I  cried,  as  the  full  significance  of  wdiat  he  said  burst 
upon  me,  "  too  true ;  but  I  bitterly  repent  my  treachery.  Others 
can  never  know  how  my  soul  is  harrowed  by  the  recollection  of 
the  enormity  of  that  breach  of  confidence.  In  spite  of  my  open, 
careless,  or  defiant  bearing,  my  heart  is  humble,  and  my  spirit 
cries  out  for  mercy.  By  night  and  by  day  I  have  in  secret 
cursed  myself  for  heeding  an  unhallowed  mandate,  and  I  have 
long  looked  forward  to  the  judgment  that  I  should  suffer  for  my 
perfidy,  for  I  have  appreciated  that  the  day  of  reckoning  would 
surely  appear.  I  do  not  rebel,  and  I  recall  my  wild  language ;  I 
recant  my  '  Confession,'  I  renounce  myself!  I  say  to  you  in  all 
sincerity,  brothers,  do  your  duty,  only  I  beg  of  you  to  slay  me 
at  once,  and  end  my  suspense.  I  await  my  doom.  What  might 
it  be?" 

Grasping  my  hand,  the  leader  said:  "You  are  ready  as  a 
member  of  our  order;  we  can  now  judge  you  as  we  have  been 
commanded;  had  you  persisted  in  calling  us  devils  in  your 
mistaken  frenzy,  we  should  have  been  forced  to  reason  with  you 
until  you  returned  again  to  us,  and  became  one  of  us.  Our 
judgment  is  for  you  only ;  the  world  must  not  now  know  its 
nature,  at  least  so  far  as  we  are  concerned.  Those  you  see  here, 
are  not  your  judges ;  we  are  agents  sent  to  labor  with  you,  to 
draw  you  back  into  our  ranks,  to  bring  you  into  a  condition  that 
will  enable  you  to  carry  out  the  sentence  that  you  have  drawn 
upon  yourself,  for  you  must  be  }'our  own  doomsman.  In  the 
first  place,  we  are  directed  to  gain  }'our  voluntary  consent  to 
leave  this  locality.  You  can  no  longer  take  part  in  affairs  that 
interested  you  before.  To  the  people  of  this  State,  and  to  your 
home,  and  kindred,  you  must  become  a  stranger  for  all  time. 
Do  you  consent?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  for  I  knew  that  T  must  acquiesce. 


A  WILD  NIGHT.  57 

"In  the  next  place,  you  must  help  us  to  remove  all  traces  of 
your  identity.  You  must,  so  far  as  the  world  is  concerned,  leave 
your  body  where  you  have  apparently  been  drowned,  for  a 
world's  benefit,  a  harmless  mockery  to  deceive  the  people,  and 
also  to  make  an  example  for  others  that  are  weak.  Are  you 
ready?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  remove  your  clothing,  and  replace  it  with  this  suit." 

I  obeyed,  and  changed  my  garments,  receiving  others  in 
return.  One  of  the  party  then,  taking  from  beneath  his  gown 
a  box  containing  several  bottles  of  liquids,  proceeded  artfully 
to  mix  and  compound  them,  and  then  to  paint  my  face  with 
the  combination,  which  after  being  mixed,  formed  a  clear 
solution. 

"  Do  not  fear  to  wash;"  said  the  spokesman,  "  the  effect  of 
this  lotion  is  permanent  enough  to  stay  until  you  are  well  out  of 
this  State." 

I  passed  my  hand  over  my  face ;  it  was  drawn  into  wrinkles 
as  a  film  of  gelatine  might  have  been  shrivelled  under  the 
influence  of  a  strong  tannin  or  astringent  liquid ;  beneath  my 
fingers  it  felt  like  the  furrowed  face  of  a  very  old  man,  but  I 
experienced  no  pain.  I  vainly  tried  to  smooth  the  wrinkles ; 
immediately  upon  removing  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  the  fur- 
rows reappeared. 

Next,  another  applied  a  colorless  liquid  freely  to  my  hair  and 
beard ;  he  rubbed  it  well,  and  afterward  wiped  it  dry  with  a 
towel.  A  mirror  was  thrust  beneath  my  gaze.  I  started  back, 
the  transformation  was  complete.  My  appearance  had  entirely 
changed.  My  face  had  become  aged  and  wrinkled,  my  hair  as 
white  as  snow. 

I  cried  aloud  in  amazement:  "Am  I  sane,  is  this  a  dream?" 

"  It  is  not  a  dream  ;  but,  under  methods  that  are  in  exact 
accordance  with  natural  physiological  laws,  we  have  been  enabled 
to  transform  your  appearance  from  that  of  one  in  the  prime 
of  manhood  into  the  semblance  of  an  old  man,  and  that, 
too,  without  impairment  of  your  vitality."  Another  of  the 
masked  men  opened  a  curious  little  casket  that  I  perceived  was 
surmounted  by  an  alembic  and  other  alchemical  figures,  and 
embossed  with  an  Oriental  design.      He  drew  from   it  a   lamp 


58 


ETIDORHPA. 


which  he  lighted  with  a  taper ;  the  flame  that  resulted,  first  pale 
blue,  then  yellow,  next  violet  and  finally  red,  seemed  to  become 
more  weird  and  ghasth-  with  each  mutation,  as  I  gazed  spell- 
bound upon  its  fantastic  changes.  Then,  after  these  transform- 
ations, it  burned  steadily  with  the  final  strange  blood-red  hue, 


"a  mirror  was  thrust  beneath  mv  gaze." 


and  he  now  held  over  the  blaze  a  tiny  cup,  which,  in  a  few 
moments,  commenced  to  sputter  and  then  smoked,  exhaling  a 
curious,  epipolic,  semi-luminous  vapor.  I  was  commanded  to 
inhale  the  vapor. 

1  hesitated ;  the  thought  rushed  upon  me,  "  Now  I  am 
another  person,  so  cleverly  disguised  that  even  my  own  friends 
would  perhaps  not  know  me,  this  vapor  is  designed  to  suffocate 
me,  and  my  body,  if  found,  will  not  now  be  known,  and  could 
not  be  identified  when  discovered." 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  the  spokesman,  as  if  divining  my 
thought,  "  there  is  no  danger,"  and  at  once  I  realized,  by  quick 
reasoning,  that  if  my  death  were  demanded,  my  body  might  long 


A  WILD  NIGHT.  59 

since  have  been  easily  destroyed,  and  all  this  ceremony  would 
have  been  unnecessar)-. 

I  hesitated  no  longer,  but  drew  into  my  lungs  the  vapor  that 
arose  from  the  mysterious  cup,  freely  expanding  my  chest  several 
times,  and  then  asked,  "Is  not  that  enough?"  Despair  now 
overcame  me.  My  voice,  no  longer  the  full,  strong  tone  of  a 
man  in  middle  life  and  perfect  strength,  squeaked  and  quavered, 
as  if  impaired  by  palsy.  I  had  seen  my  image  in  a  mirror,  an 
old  man  with  wrinkled  face  and  white  hair ;  I  now  heard  myself 
speak  with  the  voice  of  an  octogenarian. 

"What  have  you  done?"  I  cried. 

"We  have  obeyed  your  orders;  you  told  us  you  were  readv 
to  leave  your  own  self  here,  and  the  work  is  complete.  The 
man  who  entered  has  disappeared.  If  you  should  now  stand 
in  the  streets  of  your  village  home,  and  cry  to  your  former 
friends,  'It  is  I,  for  whom  you  seek,'  they  would  smile,  and 
call  you  a  madman.  Know,"  continued  the  voice,  "  that  there 
is  in  Eastern  metaphysical  lore,  more  true  philosophy  than  is 
embodied  in  the  sciences  of  to-day,  and  that  by  means  of  the 
ramifications  of  our  order  it  becomes  possible,  when  necessary, 
for  him  who  stands  beyond  the  inner  and  upper  Worshipful 
Master,  to  draw  these  treasures  from  the  occult  Wisdom  pos- 
sessions of  Oriental  sages  who  forget  nothing  and  lose  nothing. 
Have  we  not  been  permitted  to  do  his  bidding  well?" 

"Yes,"  I  squeaked;  "  and  I  wish  that  you  had  done  it  better. 
I  would  that  I  were  dead." 

"  When  the  time  comes,  if  necessary,  your  dead  body  will  be 
fished  from  the  water,"  was  the  reply;  "witnesses  have  seen 
the  drowning  tragedy,  and  will  surely  identify  the  corpse." 

"  And  may  I  go?  am  I  free  now?"  I  asked. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  that  is  not  for  us  to  say ;  our  part  of  the 
work  is  fulfilled,  and  we  can  return  to  our  native  lands,  and 
resume  again  our  several  studies.  So  far  as  we  are  concerned, 
you  are  free,  but  we  have  been  directed  to  pass  you  over  to  the 
keeping  of  others  who  will  carry  forward  this  judgment — there 
is  another  step." 

"  Tell  me,"  I  cried,  once  more  desponding,  "  tell  me  the  full 
extent  of  mv  sentence." 


60  RTIDORHPA. 

"  That  is  not  known  to  us,  and  probably  is  not  known  to  any 
one  man.  So  far  as  the  members  of  our  order  are  concerned, 
yon  have  now  vanished.  When  you  leave  our  sight  this  night, 
we  will  also  separate  from  one  another,  we  shall  know  no  more 
of  you  and  }our  future  than  will  those  of  our  working  order  who 
live  in  this  section  of  the  country.  We  have  no  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  guide  that  has  been  selected  to  conduct 
you  farther,  and  who  will  appear  in  due  season,  and  we  make 
no  surmise  concerning  the  result  of  your  journey,  only  we  know 
that  you  will  not  be  killed,  for  you  have  a  work  to  perform,  and 
will  continue  to  exist  long  after  others  of  }our  age  are  dead. 
Farewell,  brother;  we  have  discharged  our  duty,  and  by  your 
consent,  now  we  must  return  to  our  various  pursuits.  In  a  short 
time  all  evidence  of  your  unfortunate  mistake,  the  crime  com- 
mitted by  you  in  printing  our  sacred  charges,  will  have  vanished. 
Even  now,  emissaries  are  ordained  to  collect  and  destroy  the 
written  record  that  tells  of  your  weakness,  and  with  the  destruc- 
tion of  that  testimony,  for  every  copy  will  surely  be  annihilated, 
and  with  your  disappearance  from  among  men,  for  this  also  is  to 
follow,  our  responsibility  for  you  will  cease." 

Each  of  the  seven  men  advanced,  and  grasped  my  hand, 
giving  me  the  grip  of  brotherhood,  and  then,  without  a  word, 
they  severally  and  silently  departed  into  the  outer  darkness. 
As  the  last  man  disappeared,  a  figure  entered  the  door,  clad  and 
masked  exactly  like  those  who  had  gone.  He  removed  the 
long  black  gown  in  which  he  was  enveloped,  threw  the  mask 
from  his  face  and  stood  before  me,  a  slender,  graceful,  bright- 
looking  young  man.  By  the  light  of  the  candle  I  saw  him 
distinctly,  and  was  at  once  struck  by  his  amiable,  cheerful 
countenance,  and  my  heart  bounded  with  a  sudden  hope.  I  had 
temporarily  forgotten  the  transformation  that  had  been  made 
in  my  person,  which,  altogether  painless,  had  left  no  physical 
sensation,  and  thought  of  myself  as  I  had  formerly  existed  ;  my 
soul  was  still  my  own,  I  imagined;  my  blood  seemed  unchanged, 
and  must  flow  as  rapidly  as  before ;  my  strength  was  unaltered, 
indeed  I  was  in  self-consciousness  still  in  the  prime  of  life. 

"Excuse  me.  Father,"  said  the  stranger,  "but  my  services 
have  been  sought  as  a  guide  for  the  first  part  of  a  journey  that  I 
am  informed  vou  intend  to  take." 


A  WII.D  NIGHT.  61 

His  voice  was  mild  and  pleasant,  his  bearing  respectful,  but 
the  peculiar  manner  in  which  he  spoke  convinced  me  that  he 
knew  that,  as  a  guide,  he  must  conduct  me  to  some  previously 
designated  spot,  and  that  he  purposed  to  do  so  was  evident, 
with  or  without  my  consent. 

"Why  do  you  call  me  Father?"  I  attempted  to  say,  but  as 
the  first  few  words  escaped  my  lips,  the  recollection  of  the  events 
of  the  night  rushed  upon  me,  for  instead  of  my  own,  I  recognized 
the  piping  voice  of  the  old  man  I  had  now  become,  and  my 
tongue  faltered ;  the  sentence  was  unspoken. 

"  You  would  ask  me  why  I  called  you  Father,  I  perceive  ; 
well,  because  I  am  directed  to  be  a  son  to  you,  to  care  for  your 
wants,  to  make  your  journey  as  easy  and  pleasant  as  possible,  to 
guide  you  quietly  and  carefully  to  the  point  that  will  next  prove 
of  interest  to  you." 

I  stood  before  him  a  free  man,  in  the  prime  of  life,  full  of 
energ}^,  and  this  stripling  alone  interposed  between  myself  and 
liberty.  Should  I  permit  the  slender  youth  to  carry  me  away 
as  a  prisoner?  would  it  not  be  best  to  thrust  him  aside,  if 
necessary,  crush  him  to  the  earth?  go  forth  in  my  freedom? 
Yet  I  hesitated,  for  he  might  have  friends  outside ;  probably 
he  was  not  alone. 

"  There  are  no  companions  near  us,"  said  he,  reading  my 
mind,  "  and,  as  I  do  not  seem  formidable,  it  is  natural  you 
should  weigh  in  your  mind  the  probabilities  of  escape ;  but  you 
can  not  evade  your  destiny,  and  you  must  not  attempt  to 
deny  yourself  the  pleasure  of  my  company.  You  must  leave 
this  locality  and  leave  without  a  regret.  In  order  that  >ou 
may  acquiesce  willingly  I  propose  that  together  we  return  to 
your  former  home,  which  you  will,  however,  find  no  longer  to  be 
a  home.  I  will  accompany  you  as  a  companion,  as  your  son. 
You  may  speak,  with  one  exception,  to  whomever  you  care  to 
address ;  may  call  on  any  of  your  old  associates,  may  assert 
openly  who  you  are,  or  whatever  and  whoever  you  please  to 
represent  yourself,  only  I  must  also  have  the  privilege  of  joining 
in  the  conversation." 

"Agreed,"  I  cried,  and  extended  my  hand;  he  grasped  it,  and 
then  by  the  light  of  the  candle,  I  saw  a  peculiar  expression  flit 
over  his  face,  as  he  added : 


62  ETIDORIIPA. 

"  To  one  person  only,  as  I  have  said,  and  yon  have  promised, 
yon  mnst  not  speak — }onr  wife." 

I  bowed  my  head,  and  a  flood  of  sorrowfnl  reflections  swept 
over  me.  Of  all  the  world  the  one  whom  I  longed  to  meet,  to 
clasp  in  my  arms,  to  counsel  in  my  distress,  was  the  wife  of  my 
bosom,  and  I  begged  him  to  withdraw  his  cruel  injunction. 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  her  before  ;  now  it  is  too  late. 
To  permit  you  to  meet,  and  speak  with  her  would  be  dangerous ; 
she  might  pierce  your  disguise.     Of  all  others  there  is  no  fear." 

"  ]\Iust  I  go  with  you  into  an  unknown  future  without  a 
farewell  kiss  from  my  little  child  or  from  my  babe  scarce  three 
months  old?" 

"  It  has  been  so  ordained." 

I  threw  myself  on  the  floor  and  moaned.  "  This  is  too  hard, 
too  hard  for  human  heart  to  bear.  Life  has  no  charm  to  a  man 
who  is  thrust  from  all  he  holds  most  dear,  home,  friends,  family." 

"The  men  who  relinquish  such  pleasures  and  such  comforts 
are  those  who  do  the  greatest  good  to  humanity,"  said  the  youth. 
"  The  multitude  exist  to  propagate  the  race,  as  animal  progen- 
itors of  the  multitudes  that  are  to  follow,  and  the  exceptional 
philanthropist  is  he  who  denies  himself  material  bliss,  and 
punishes  himself  in  order  to  w^ork  out  a  problem  such  as  it  has 
been  ordained  that  you  are  to  solve.  Do  not  argue  further — 
the  line  is  marked,  and  you  must  walk  direct." 

Into  the  blaze  of  the  old  fireplace  of  that  log  house,  for, 
although  it  was  autumn,  the  night  was  chilly,  he  then  cast  his 
black  robe  and  false  face,  and,  as  they  turned  to  ashes,  the  last 
evidences  of  the  vivid  acts  through  which  I  had  passed,  were 
destroyed.  As  I  lay  moaning  in  my  utter  misery,  I  tried  to 
reason  with  myself  that  what  I  experienced  was  all  a  hallucina- 
tion. I  dozed,  and  awoke  startled,  half  conscious  only,  as  one 
in  a  nightmare;  I  said  to  myself,  "A  dream!  a  dream!"  and 
slept  again. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    LESSON    IN    MIND    STUDY. 

The  door  of  the  cabin  was  open  when  I  awoke,  the  snn  shone 
brightly,  and  my  friend,  apparently  happy  and  nnconcerned, 
said :  "  Father,  we  mnst  soon  start  on  onr  jonrney ;  I  have  taken 
advantage  of  your  refreshing  sleep,  and  have  engaged  breakfast 
at  yonder  farm-house ;  our  meal  awaits  us." 

I  arose,  washed  my  wrinkled  face,  combed  my  white  hair, 
and  shuddered  as  I  saw  in  a  pocket  mirror  the  reflection  of  my 
figure,  an  aged,  apparently  decrepit  man. 

"Do  not  be  disturbed  at  your  feeble  condition,"  said  my 
companion ;  "  your  infirmities  are  not  real.  Few  men  have  ever 
been  permitted  to  drink  of  the  richness  of  the  revelations  that 
await  you ;  and  in  view  of  these  expectations  the  fact  that  you 
are  prematurely  aged  in  appearance  should  not  unnerve  you. 
Be  of  good  heart,  and  when  you  say  the  word,  we  will  start  on 
our  journey,  which  will  begin  as  soon  as  you  have  said  farewell 
to  former  friends  and  acquaintances." 

I  made  no  reply,  but  silently  accompanied  him,  for  my  thoughts 
were  in  the  past,  and  my  reflections  were  far  from  pleasant. 

We  reached  the  farm-house,  and  as  I  observed  the  care  and 
attention  extended  me  by  the  pleasant-faced  housewife,  I  realized 
that,  in  one  respect  at  least,  old  age  brought  its  compensation. 
After  breakfast  a  man  appeared  from  the  farmer's  barn,  driving 
a  team  of  horses  attached  to  an  open  spring-wagon  which,  in 
obedience  to  the  request  of  my  guide,  I  entered,  accompanied 
by  my  young  friend,  who  directed  that  we  be  driven  toward  the 
village  from  which  I  had  been  abducted.  He  seemed  to  know  my 
past  life  as  I  knew  it ;  he  asked  me  to  select  those  of  my  friends 
to  whom  I  first  wished  to  bid  farewell,  even  mentioning  their 
names ;  he  seemed  all  that  a  patient,  faithful  son  could  be,  and  I 
began  to  wonder  at  his  audacity,  even  as  much  as  I  admired  his 
self-confidence. 


64  KTIDORHPA. 

As  we  journeyed  onward  we  engaged  in  familiar  talk.  We 
sat  together  on  the  back  seat  of  the  open  spring-wagon,  in  full 
sight  of  passers,  no  attempt  being  made  to  conceal  my  person. 
Thus  we  traveled  for  two  days,  and  on  our  course  we  passed 
through  a  large  city  with  which  I  was  acquainted,  a  city  that 
my  abductors  had  previously  carried  me  through  and  beyond.  I 
found  that  my  "son"  possessed  fine  conversational  power,  and  a 
rich  mine  of  information,  and  he  became  increasinelv  interestincr 
as  he  drew  from  his  fund  of  knowledge,  and  poured  into  m>- 
listening  ears  an  entrancing  strain  of  historical  and  metaphysical 
information.  Never  at  a  loss  for  a  word  or  an  idea,  he  appeared 
to  discern  my  cogitations,  and  as  my  mind  wandered  in  this 
or  that  direction  he  fell  into  the  channel  of  my  fancies,  and 
answered  my  unspoken  thoughts,  my  mind-questions  or  medi- 
tations, as  pertinently  as  though  I  had  spoken  them. 

His  accomplishments,  for  the  methods  of  his  perception  were 
unaccompanied  by  any  endeavor  to  draw  me  into  word  expression, 
made  me  aware  at  least,  that,  in  him,  I  had  to  deal  with  a  man 
unquestionably  possessed  of  more  than  ordinary  intellect  and 
education,  and  as  this  conviction  entered  my  mind  he  changed 
his  subject  and  promptly  answered  the  silent  inquiry,  speaking 
as  follows : 

"  Have  you  not  sometimes  felt  that  in  yourself  there  may 
exist  undeveloped  senses  that  await  an  awakening  touch  to  open 
to  yourself  a  new  world,  senses  that  may  be  fully  developed,  but 
which  saturate  each  other  and  neutralize  themselves ;  quiescent, 
closed  circles  which  you  can  not  reach,  satisfied  circuits  slum- 
bering within  your  body  and  that  defy  your  efforts  to  utilize 
them?  In  your  dreams  have  you  not  seen  sights  that  words 
are  inadequate  to  describe,  that  )-our  faculties  can  not  retain  in 
waking  moments,  and  which  dissolve  into  intangible  nothingness, 
leaving  only  a  vague,  shadowy  outline  as  the  mind  quickens,  or 
rather  when  the  senses  that  possess  you  in  sleep  relinquish  the 
body  to  the  returning  vital  functions  and  spirit?  This  uncon- 
scious conception  of  other  planes,  a  beyond  or  l)etwixt,  that  is 
neither  mental  nor  material,  neither  here  nor  located  elsewhere, 
belongs  to  humanity  in  general,  and  is  made  evident  from  the 
unsatiable  desire  of  men  to  pry  into  phenomena  latent  or  recon- 
dite that  offer  no  apparent  return  to  humanity.     This  desire  has 


A  LESSON  IN  MIND  STUDY.  65 

given  men  the  knowledge  they  now  possess  of  the  sciences; 
sciences  yet  in  their  infancy.  Stndy  in  this  direction  is,  at 
present,  altogether  of  the  material  plane,  but  in  time  to  come, 
men  will  gain  control  of  outlying  senses  which  will  enable  them 
to  step  from  the  seen  into  the  consideration  of  matter  or  force 
that  is  now  subtle  and  evasive,  which  must  be  accomplished 
by  means  of  the  latent  faculties  that  I  have  indicated.  There 
will  be  an  unconscious  development  of  new  mind-forces  in  the 
student  of  nature  as  the  rudiments  of  these  so-called  sciences 
are  elaborated.  Step  by  step,  as  the  ages  pass,  the  faculties  of 
men  will,  under  progressive  series  of  evolutions,  imperceptibly 
pass  into  higher  phases  until  that  which  is  even  now  possible 
with  some  individuals  of  the  purified  esoteric  school,  but  which 
would  seem  miraculous  if  practiced  openly  at  this  day,  will  prove 
feasible  to  humanity  generally  and  be  found  in  exact  accord  with 
natural  laws.  The  conversational  method  of  men,  whereby 
communion  between  human  beings  is  carried  on  by  disturbing 
the  air  by  means  of  vocal  organs  so  as  to  produce  mechanical 
pulsations  of  that  medium,  is  crude  in  the  extreme.  Mind  craves 
to  meet  mind,  but  can  not  yet  thrust  matter  aside,  and  in  order 
to  communicate  one  with  another,  the  impression  one  mind 
wishes  to  convey  to  another  must  be  first  made  on  the  brain 
matter  that  accompanies  it,  which  in  turn  influences  the  organs 
of  speech,  inducing  a  disturbance  of  the  air  by  the  motions  of 
the  vocal  organs,  which,  by  undulations  that  reach  to  another 
being,  act  on  his  ear,  and  secondarily  on  the  earthly  matter  of  his 
brain,  and  finally  by  this  roundabout  course,  impress  the  second 
being's  mind.  In  this  transmission  of  motions  there  is  great  waste 
of  energy  and  loss  of  time,  but  such  methods  are  a  necessity  of 
the  present  slow,  much-obstructed  method  of  communication. 
There  is,  in  cultivated  man,  an  innate  craving  for  something 
more  facile,  and  often  a  partly  developed  conception,  spectral 
and  vague,  appears,  and  the  being  feels  that  there  may  be  for 
mortals  a  richer,  brighter  life,  a  higher  earthly  existence  that 
science  does  not  now  indicate.  Such  intimation  of  a  deeper 
play  of  faculties  is  now  most  vivid  with  men  during  the  perfect 
loss  of  mental  self  as  experienced  in  dreams,  which  as  yet  man 
in  the  quick  can  not  grasp,  and  which  fade  as  he  awakens.  As 
mental  sciences  are  developed,  investigators  will  find  that  the 

6 


66  KTIDORHPA. 

medium  known  as  air  is  unnecessary  as  a  means  of  conveying 
mind  conceptions  from  one  person  to  another;  that  material 
sounds  and  word  pulsations  are  cumbersome ;  that  thought  force 
unexpressed  may  be  used  to  accomplish  more  than  speech  can 
do,  and  that  physical  exertions  as  exemplified  in  motion  of  matter 
sucli  as  I  have  described  will  be  unnecessary  for  mental  com- 
munication. As  door  after  door  in  these  directions  shall  open 
before  men,  mystery  after  mystery  will  be  disclosed,  and  vanish 
as  mysteries  to  reappear  as  simple  facts.  Phenomena  that  are 
impossible  and  unrevealed  to  the  scientist  of  to-day  will  be 
familiar  to  the  coming  multitude,  and  at  last,  as  by  degrees, 
clearer  knowledge  is  evolved,  the  vocal  language  of  men  will 
disappear,  and  humanity,  regardless  of  nationality,  will,  in 
silence  and  even  in  darkness,  converse  eloquently  together  in 
mind  language.  That  which  is  now  esoteric  will  become  exoteric. 
Then  mind  will  meet  mind  as  my  mind  now  impinges  on  your 
own,  and,  in  reply  to  your  imuttered  question  regarding  my 
apparently  unaccountable  powers  of  perception,  I  say  they  are 
perfectly  natural,  but  while  I  can  read  your  thoughts,  because  of 
the  fact  that  you  can  not  reciprocate  in  this  direction,  I  must  use 
my  voice  to  impress  your  mind.  You  will  know  more  of  this, 
however,  at  a  future  day,  for  it  has  been  ordained  that  you  are  to 
be  educated  with  an  object  that  is  now  concealed.  At  present 
you  are  interested  mainly  in  the  affairs  of  life  as  you  know  them, 
and  can  not  enter  into  these  purer  spheres.  We  are  approaching 
one  of  your  former  friends,  and  it  may  be  your  pleasure  to  ask 
him  some  questions  and  to  bid  him  farewell." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I   CAN   NOT   ESTABLISH    MY   IDENTITY. 

In  surprise  I  perceived  coming  towards  us  a  light  spring 
wagon,  in  which  rode  one  of  my  old  acquaintances.  Pleasure 
at  the  discovery  led  me  to  raise  my  hat,  wave  it  around  my 
head,  and  salute  him  even  at  the  considerable  distance  that  then 
separated  us.  I  was  annoyed  at  the  look  of  curiosity  that  passed 
over  his  countenance,  and  not  until  the  two  vehicles  had  stopped 
side  by  side  did  it  occur  to  me  that  I  was  unrecognized.  I  had 
been  so  engrossed  in  my  companion's  revelations,  that  I  had 
forgotten  my  unfortunate  physical  condition. 

I  stretched  out  my  hand,  I  leaned  over  almost  into  the  other 
vehicle,  and  earnestly  said : 

"Do  you  not  know  me?  Only  a  short  time  ago  we  sat  and 
conversed  side  by  side." 

A  look  of  bewilderment  came  over  his  features.  *'  I  have 
never  seen  you  that  I  can  recall,"  he  answered. 

My  spirit  sank  within  me.  Could  it  be  possible  that  I  was 
really  so  changed?  I  begged  him  to  try  and  recall  my  former 
self,  giving  my  name.  "I  am  that  person,"  I  added;  but  he, 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  that  told  as  plainly  as  words 
could  speak  that  he  considered  me  deranged,  touched  his  horse, 
and  drove  on. 

My  companion  broke  the  awkward  silence.  "  Do  you  know 
that  I  perceived  between  you  two  men  an  unconscious  display  of 
inind-language,  especially  evident  on  your  part?  You  wished 
with  all  the  earnestness  of  your  soul  to  bring  yourself  as  you  for- 
merly appeared,  before  that  man,  and  when  it  proved  impossible, 
without  a  word  from  him,  his  mind  exhibited  itself  to  your  more 
earnest  intellect,  and  you  realized  that  he  said  to  himself,  '  This 
person  is  a  poor  lunatic'  He  told  you  his  thoughts  in  mind- 
language,  as  plainly  as  words  could  have  spoken,  because  the 
intense   earnestness   on    your   part    quickened    your   perceptive 

G7 


68  ETIDORHPA. 

faculties,  but  he  could  uot  see  your  mental  state,  and  the 
pleading  voice  of  the  apparent  stranger  before  him  could  not 
convince  the  unconcerned  lethargic  mind  within  him.  I  observed, 
however,  in  addition  to  what  you  noticed,  that  he  is  really  looking 
for  you.  That  is  the  object  of  his  journey,  and  I  learn  that  in 
every  direction  men  are  now  spreading  the  news  that  you  have 
been  kidnapped  and  carried  from  your  jail.  However,  we  shall 
soon  be  in  the  village,  and  you  will  then  hear  more  about 
yourself." 

We  rode  in  silence  while  I  meditated  on  my  remarkable 
situation.  I  could  not  resign  myself  without  a  struggle  to  my 
approaching  fate,  and  I  felt  even  yet  a  hope,  although  I  seemed 
powerless  in  the  hands  of  destiny.  Could  I  not,  by  some 
method,  convince  my  friends  of  my  identity?  I  determined, 
forgetting  the  fact  that  my  guide  was  even  then  reading  my 
mind,  that  upon  the  next  opportunity  I  would  pursue  a  different 
course. 

"It  will  not  avail,"  my  companion  replied.  "You  must  do 
one  of  two  things :  you  will  voluntarily  go  with  me,  or  you  will 
involuntarily  go  to  an  insane  asylum.  Neither  you  nor  I  could 
by  any  method  convince  others  that  the  obviously  decrepit  old 
man  beside  me  was  but  yesterday  hale,  hearty,  young  and  strong. 
You  will  find  that  you  can  not  prove  your  identity,  and  as  a 
friend,  one  of  the  great  brotherhood  to  which  you  belong,  a  craft 
that  deals  charitably  with  all  men  and  all  problems,  I  advise 
you  to  accept  the  situation  as  soon  as  possible  after  it  becomes 
evident  to  your  mind  that  you  are  lost  to  former  affiliations,  and 
must  henceforth  be  a  stranger  to  the  people  whom  you  know. 
Take  my  advice,  and  cease  to  regret  the  past  and  cheerful!)- 
turn  your  thoughts  to  the  future.  On  one  side  of  you  the  lun- 
atic asylum  is  open ;  on  the  other,  a  journey  into  an  unknown 
region,  beyond  the  confines  of  any  known  country.  On  the  one 
hand,  imprisonment  and  subjection,  perhaps  abuse  and  neglect; 
on  the  other,  liberation  of  soul,  evolution  of  faculty,  and  a 
grasping  of  superior  knowledge  that  is  denied  most  men — yes, 
withheld  from  all  but  a  few  persons  of  each  generation,  for  only 
a  few,  unknown  to  the  millions  of  this  world's  inhabitants,  have 
passed  over  the  road  you  are  to  travel.  Just  now  you  wished  to 
meet  your  jailer  of  a  few  hours  ago ;  it  is  a  wise  conclusion,  and 


I  CAN  NOT  ESTABLISH  MY  IDENTITY.  69 

if  he  does  not  recognize  yon,  I  ask  in  sincerity,  who  will  be 
likely  to  do  so  ?  We  will  drive  straight  to  his  home ;  bnt,  here 
he  comes." 

Indeed,  we  were  now  in  the  village,  where  my  miserable  jour- 
ney began,  and  perhaps  by  chance — it  seems  that  it  could  not 
have  been  otherwise — my  former  jailer  actually  approached  us. 

"  If  you  please,"  said  my  companion,  "  I  will  assist  you  to 
alight  from  the  wagon,  and  you  may  privately  converse  with  him." 

Our  wagon  stopped,  my  guide  opened  a  conversation  with  the 
jailer,  saying  that  his  friend  wished  to  speak  with  him,  and  then 
assisted  me  to  alight  and  retired  a  distance.  I  was  vexed  at 
my  infirmities,  which  embarrassed  me  most  exasperatingly,  but 
which  I  knew  were  artificial;  my  body  appeared  unwilling 
although  my  spirit  was  anxious ;  but  do  what  I  could  to  control 
my  actions,  I  involuntarily  behaved  like  a  decrepit  old  man. 
However,  my  mind  was  made  up ;  this  attempt  to  prove  my 
personality  should  be  the  last;  failure  now  would  prove  the 
turning  point,  and  I  would  go  willingly  with  my  companion 
upon  the  unknown  journey  if  I  could  not  convince  the  jailer 
of  my  identity. 

Straightening  myself  before  the  expectant  jailer,  who,  with 
a  look  of  inquisitiveness,  regarded  me  as  a  stranger,  I  asked  if 
lie  knew  my  former  self,  giving  my  name. 

"That  I  do,"  he  replied,  "and  if  I  could  find  him  at  this 
moment  I  would  be  relieved  of  a  load  of  worry." 

"Would  you  surely  know  him  if  you  met  him?"  I  asked. 

"  x\ssuredly,"  he  replied;  "and  if  you  bring  tidings  of  his 
whereabouts,  as  your  bearing  indicates,  speak,  that  I  may  rid 
myself  of  suspicion  and  suspense." 

Calling  the  jailer  by  name,  I  asked  him  if  my  countenance 
did  not  remind  him  of  the  man  he  wished  to  find. 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Listen,  does  not  my  voice  resemble  that  of  your  escaped 
prisoner?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

With  a  violent  effort  I  drew  my  form  as  straight  as  pos- 
sible, and  stood  upright  before  him,  with  every  facial  muscle 
strained  to  its  iitmost,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  bring  my  wrinkled 
countenance  to  its  former  smoothness,  and  with  the  energy  that 


70 


ETIDORHPA. 


a  drowning  man  might  exert  to  grasp  a  passing  object,  I  tried 
to  control  my  voice,  and  preserve  my  identity  by  so  doing, 
vehemently  imploring  him,  begging  him  to  listen  to  my  story. 
"  I  am  the  man  you  seek ;  I  am  the  prisoner  who,  a  few  days 


"I   AM    THE    MAN   YOU    SEEK." 


ago,  stood  in  the  prime  of  life  before  you.  I  have  been  spirited 
away  from  you  by  men  who  are  leagued  with  occult  forces,  which 
extend  forward  among  hidden  mysteries,  into  forces  which 
illuminate  the  present,  and  reach  backward  into  the  past 
unseen.  These  persons,  by  artful  and  damnable  manipulations 
under  the  guidance  of  a  power  that  has  been  evolved  in  the 
secrecy  of  past  ages,  and  transmitted  only  to  a  favored  few,  have 
changed  the  strong  man  you  knew  into  the  one  apparently 
feeble,  who  now  confronts  you.     Only  a  short  period  has  passed. 


I  CAN  NOT  KSTABIJSII  MY  IDPvNTlTY.  71 

since  I  was  your  unwilling  captive,  charged  with  debt,  a  trifling 
sum;  and  then,  as  your  sullen  prisoner,  I  longed  for  freedom. 
Now  I  plead  before  you,  with  all  nn*  soul,  I  beg  of  you  to  take 
me  back  to  my  cell.  Seal  your  doors,  and  hold  me  again,  for 
your  dungeon  will  now  be  to  me  a  paradise." 

I  felt  that  I  was  becoming  frantic,  for  with  each  word  I  realized 
that  the  jailer  became  more  and  more  impatient  and  anno}'ed.  I 
perceived  that  he  believed  me  to  be  a  lunatic.  Pleadings  and 
entreaties  were  of  no  avail,  and  my  eagerness  rapidly  changed 
into  despair  until  at  last  I  cried :  "  If  you  will  not  believe  my 
words,  I  will  throw  myself  on  the  mercy  of  my  young  compan- 
ion. I  ask  you  to  consider  his  testimony,  and  if  he  says  that  I 
am  not  what  I  assert  myself  to  be,  I  will  leave  my  home  and 
country,  and  go  with  him  quietly  into  the  unknown  future." 

He  turned  to  depart,  but  I  threw  myself  before  him,  and 
beckoned  the  young  man  who,  up  to  this  time,  had  stood  aloof 
in  respectful  silence.  He  came  forward,  and  addressing  the 
jailer,  called  him  by  name,  and  corroborated  my  story.  Yes, 
strange  as  it  sounded  to  me,  he  reiterated  the  substance  of  my 
narrative  as  I  had  repeated  it.  "  Now,  you  will  believe  it,"  I 
cried  in  ecstacy;  "now  you  need  no  longer  question  the  facts 
that  I  have  related." 

Instead,  however,  of  accepting  the  story  of  the  witness,  the 
jailer  upbraided  him. 

"This  is  a  preconcerted  arrangement  to  get  me  into  ridicule 
or  further  trouble.  You  two  have  made  up  an  incredible  story 
that  on  its  face  is  fit  only  to  be  told  to  men  as  crazy  or  designing 
as  yourselves.  This  young  man  did  not  even  overhear  your 
conversation  with  me,  and  yet  he  repeats  his  lesson  without  a 
question  from  me  as  to  what  I  wish  to  learn  of  him." 

"  He  can  see  our  minds,"  I  cried  in  despair. 

"  Crazier  than  I  should  have  believed  from  your  countenance," 
the  jailer  replied.  "  Of  all  the  improbable  stories  imaginable, 
you  have  attempted  to  inveigle  me  into  accepting  that  which  is 
most  unreasonable.  If  you  are  leagued  together  intent  on  some 
swindling  scheme,  I  give  you  warning  now  that  I  am  in  no 
mood  for  trifling.  Go  your  way,  and  trouble  me  no  more  with 
•this  foolish  scheming,  which  villainy  or  lunacy  of  some  descrip- 
tion must  underlie."     He  turned  in  ano-er  and  left  us. 


72  ETIDORHPA. 

"It  is  as  I  predicted,"  said  my  companion;  "yon  are  lost  to 
man.  Those  who  know  )on  best  will  tnrn  from  you  soonest.  I 
might  become  as  wild  as  )on  are,  in  your  interest,  and  only 
serve  to  make  your  story  appear  more  extravagant.  In  human 
affairs  men  judge  and  act  according  to  the  limited  knowledge  at 
command  of  the  multitude.  Witnesses  who  tell  the  truth  are 
often,  in  our  courts  of  law,  stunned,  as  you  have  been,  by  the 
decisions  of  a  narrow-minded  jury.  Men  sit  on  juries  with  little 
conception  of  the  facts  of  the  case  that  is  brought  before  them  ; 
the  men  who  manipulate  them  are  mere  tools  in  unseen  hands 
that  throw  their  several  minds  in  antagonisms  unexplainable  to 
man.  The  judge  is  unconsciously  often  a  tool  of  his  own  errors 
or  those  of  others.  One  learned  judge  unties  what  another  has 
fastened,  each  basing  his  views  on  the  same  testimony,  each 
rendering  his  decision  in  accordance  with  law  derived  from  the 
same  authority.  Your  case  is  that  condition  of  mind  that  men 
call  lunacy.  You  can  see  much  that  is  hidden  from  others 
because  you  have  become  acquainted  with  facts  that  their  narrow 
education  forbids  them  to  accept,  but,  because  the  majority  is 
against  you,  they  consider  you  mentally  unbalanced.  The  philos- 
ophy of  men  does  not  yet  comprehend  the  conditions  that  have 
operated  on  your  person,  and  as  you  stand  alone,  although  in  the 
right,  all  men  will  oppose  you,  and  you  must  submit  to  the  views 
of  a  misguided  majority.  In  the  eyes  of  a  present  generation 
you  are  crazy.  A  jury  of  your  former  peers  could  not  do  else 
than  so  adjudge  you,  for  you  are  not  on  the  same  mental  plane, 
and  I  ask,  will  you  again  attempt  to  accomplish  that  which  is  as 
impossible  as  it  would  be  for  you  to  drink  the  waters  of  Seneca 
Lake  at  one  draught  ?  Go  to  those  men  and  propose  to  drain  that 
lake  at  one  gulp,  and  you  will  be  listened  to  as  seriously  as  when 
you  beg  your  former  comrades  to  believe  that  you  are  another 
person  than  what  you  seem.  Only  lengthened  life  is  credited 
with  the  production  of  physical  changes  that  under  favorable 
conditions,  are  possible  of  accomplishment  in  a  brief  period, 
and  such  testimony  as  you  could  bring,  in  the  present  state  of 
human  knowledge,  would  only  add  to  the  proof  of  your  lunacy." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  I  said;  "and  I  submit.  Lead  on,  I  am  ready. 
Whatever  my  destined  career  may  be,  wherever  it  may  be,  it  can 
only  lead  to  the  grave." 


I  CAN  NOT  ESTABLISH  MY  IDENTITY.  73 

"  Do  not  be  so  sure  of  that,"  was  the  reply. 

I  shuddered  instinctively,  for  this  answer  seemed  to  imply 
that  the  stillness  of  the  grave  would  be  preferable  to  my  destiny. 

We  got  into  the  wagon  again,  and  a  deep  silence  followed 
as  we  rode  along,  gazing  abstractedly  on  the  quiet  fields  and 
lonely  farm-houses.  Finally  we  reached  a  little  village.  Here 
my  companion  dismissed  the  farmer,  our  driver,  paying  him 
liberally,  and  secured  lodgings  in  a  private  family  (I  believe  we 
were  expected),  and  after  a  hearty  supper  we  retired.  From  the 
time  we  left  the  jailer  I  never  again  attempted  to  reveal  my 
identity.  I  had  lost  my  interest  in  the  past,  and  found  myself 
cravino^  to  know  what  the  future  had  in  store  for  me. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MY  JOURNEY  TOWARDS  THE  END  OF  EARTH  BEGINS.  —  THE 
ADEPTS'  BROTHERHOOD. 

My  companion  did  not  attempt  to  watch  over  my  motions  or 
in  any  way  to  interfere  with  my  freedom. 

"  I  will  for  a  time  necessarily  be  absent,"  he  said,  "  arranging 
for  our  journey,  and  while  I  am  getting  ready  you  must  employ 
vourself  as  best  you  can.  I  ask  you,  however,  now  to  swear 
that,  as  you  have  promised,  you  will  not  seek  your  wife  and 
children." 

To  this  I  agreed. 

"Hold  up  your  hand,"  he  said,  and  I  repeated  after  him: 
"  All  this  I  most  solemnly  and  sincerely  promise  and  swear,  with 
a  firm  and  steadfast  resolution  to  keep  and  perform  my  oath, 
without  the  least  equivocation,  mental  reservation  or  self-evasion 
whatever." 

"That  will  answer;  see  that  you  keep  your  oath  this  time," 
he  said,  and  he  departed.  Several  days  were  consumed  before 
he  returned,  and  during  that  time  I  was  an  inquisitive  and  silent 
listener  to  the  various  conjectures  others  were  making  regarding 
my  abduction  which  event  was  becoming  of  general  interest. 
Some  of  the  theories  advanced  were  quite  near  the  truth,  others 
wild  and  erratic.  How  preposterous  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
actor  himself  could  be  in  the  very  seat  of  the  disturbance,  will- 
ing, anxious  to  testify,  ready  to  prove  the  truth  concerning  his 
position,  and  yet  unable  even  to  obtain  a  respectful  hearing  from 
those  most  interested  in  his  recovery.  Men  gathered  together 
discussing  the  "  outrage";  women,  children,  even,  talked  of  little 
else,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  entire  country  was  aroused. 
New  political  issues  took  their  rise  from  the  event,  but  the  man 
who  was  the  prime  cause  of  the  excitement  was  for  a  period  a 
willing  and  unwilling  listener,  as  he  had  been  a  willing  and 
unwilling  actor  in  the  tragedy. 

74 


MY  JOURNEY  TOWARDvS  TlIIv   END  OF  HARTII  BKGINS.  75 

One  morning  my  companion  drove  np  in  a  light  carriage, 
drawn  by  a  span  of  fine,  spirited,  black  horses. 

"We  are  ready  now,"  he  said,  and  my  nnprecedented  journey 
began. 

Wherever  we  stopped,  I  heard  my  name  mentioned.  Men 
combined  against  men,  brother  was  declaiming  against  brother, 
neighbor  was  against  neighbor,  everywhere  suspicion  was  in 
the  air. 

"The  passage  of  time  alone  can  quiet  these  people,"  said  I. 

"  The  usual  conception  of  the  term  Time — an  indescribable 
something  flowing  at  a  constant  rate — is  erroneous,"  replied  my 
comrade.  "Time  is  humanity's  best  friend,  and  should  be  pict- 
ured as  a  ministering  angel,  instead  of  a  skeleton  with  hour-glass 
and  scythe.  Time  does  not  fly,  but  is  permanent  and  quiescent, 
while  restless,  force-impelled  matter  rushes  onward.  Force  and 
matter  fly ;  Time  reposes.  At  our  birth  we  are  wound  up  like  a 
machine,  to  move  for  a  certain  number  of  years,  grating  against 
Time.  We  grind  against  that  complacent  spirit,  and  wear  not 
Time  but  ourselves  away.  We  hold  within  ourselves  a  certain 
amount  of  energy,  which,  an  evanescent  form  of  matter,  is  the 
opponent  of  Time.  Time  has  no  existence  with  inanimate 
objects.  It  is  a  conception  of  the  human  intellect.  Time  is 
rest,  perfect  rest,  tranquillity  such  as  man  never  realizes  unless 
he  becomes  a  part  of  the  sweet  silences  toward  which  human  life 
and  human  mind  are  drifting.  So  much  for  Time.  Now  for  Life. 
Disturbed  energy  in  one  of  its  forms,  we  call  Life ;  and  this  Life 
is  the  great  enemy  of  peace,  the  opponent  of  steadfast  perfection. 
Pure  energy,  the  soul  of  the  universe,  permeates  all  things  with 
which  man  is  now  acquainted,  but  when  at  rest  is  imperceptible 
to  man,  while  disturbed  energy,  according  to  its  condition,  is 
apparent  either  as  matter  or  as  force.  A  substance  or  material 
body  is  a  manifestation  resulting  from  a  disturbance  of  energy. 
The  agitating  cause  removed,  the  manifestations  disappear,  and 
thus  a  universe  may  be  extinguished,  without  unbalancing  the 
cosmos  that  remains.  The  worlds  known  to  man  are  conditions 
of  abnormal  energy  moving  on  separate  planes  through  what 
men  call  space.  They  attract  to  themselves  bodies  of  similar 
description,  and  thus  influence  one  another — they  have  each  a 
separate  existence,  and  are  swayed  to  and  fro  under  the  influence 


76  ETIDORHPA. 

of  the  various  disturbances  in  energy  common  to  their  rank 
or  order,  which  we  call  forms  of  forces.  Unsettled  energy  also 
assumes  numerous  other  expressions  that  are  unknown  to  man, 
but  which  in  all  perceptible  forms  is  characterized  by  motion. 
Pure  energy  can  not  be  appreciated  by  the  minds  of  mortals. 
There  are  invisible  worlds  besides  those  perceived  by  us  in  our 
planetary  svstem,  unreachable  centers  of  ethereal  structure  about 
us  that  stand  in  a  higher  plane  of  development  than  earthly 
matter  which  is  a  gross  form  of  disturbed  energy.  There  are 
also  lower  planes.  Man's  acquaintance  with  the  forms  of  energy 
is  the  result  of  his  power  of  perceiving  the  forms  of  matter  of 
which  he  is  a  part.  Heat,  light,  gravitation,  electricity  and 
magnetism  are  ever  present  in  all  perceivable  substances,  and, 
although  purer  than  earth,  they  are  still  manifestations  of  absolute 
energy,  and  for  this  reason  are  sensible  to  men,  but  more  evanes- 
cent than  material  bodies.  Perhaps  you  can  conceive  that  if  these 
disturbances  could  be  removed,  matter  or  force  would  be  resolved 
back  into  pure  energy,  and  would  vanish.  Such  a  dissociation 
is  an  ethereal  existence,  and  as  pure  energy  the  life  spirit  of  all 
material  things  is  neither  cold  nor  hot,  hea\^  nor  light,  solid, 
liquid  nor  gaseous — men  can  not,  as  mortals  now  exist,  see, 
feel,  smell,  taste,  or  even  conceive  of  it.  It  moves  through 
space  as  we  do  through  it,  a  world  of  itself  as  transparent  to 
matter  as  matter  is  to  it,  insensible  but  ever  present,  a  reality  to 
higher  existences  that  rest  in  other  planes,  but  not  to  us 
an  essence  subject  to  scientific  test,  nor  an  entity.  Of  these 
problems  and  their  connection  with  others  in  the  unseen  depths 
beyond,  you  are  not  yet  in  a  position  properly  to  judge,  but 
before  many  years  a  new  sense  will  be  given  you  or  a  develop- 
ment of  latent  senses  by  the  removal  of  those  more  gross,  and  a 
partial  insight  into  an  unsuspected  unseen,  into  a  realm  to  you 
at  present  unknown. 

"  It  has  been  ordained  that  a  select  few  must  from  time  to  time 
pass  over  the  threshold  that  divides  a  mortal's  present  life  from 
the  future,  and  your  lot  has  been  cast  among  the  favored  ones. 
It  is  or  should  be  deemed  a  privilege  to  be  permitted  to  pass 
farther  than  human  philosophy  has  yet  gone,  into  an  investiga- 
tion of  the  problems  of  life ;  this  I  say  to  encourage  you.  We 
have  in  our  order  a  handful  of  persons  who  have  received  the 


iMY  JOURNEY  TOWARDS  THP:;  p:ND  OF  EARTH  BEGINS.  77 

accnmulated  fruits  of  the  close  attention  others  have  given  to 
these  subjects  which  have  been  handed  to  them  by  the  genera- 
tions of  men  who  have  preceded.  You  are  destined  to  become 
as  they  are.  This  study  of  semi-occult  forces  has  enabled  those 
selected  for  the  work  to  master  some  of  the  concealed  truths  of 
being,  and  by  the  partial  development  of  a  new  sense  or  new 
senses,  partly  to  triumph  over  death.  These  facts  are  hidden  from 
ordinar}^  man,  and  from  the  earth-bound  workers  of  our  brother- 
hood, who  can  not  even  interpret  the  words  they  learn.  The 
methods  by  which  they  are  elucidated  have  been  locked  from  man 
because  the  world  is  not  prepared  to  receive  them,  selfishness 
being  the  ruling  passion  of  debased  mankind,  and  publicity,  until 
the  chain  of  evidence  is  more  complete,  would  embarrass  their 
further  evolutions,  for  man  as  yet  lives  on  the  selfish  plane." 

"  Do  you  mean  that,  among  men,  there  are  a  few  persons 
possessed  of  powers  such  as  you  have  mentioned?" 

"  Yes ;  they  move  here  and  there  through  all  orders  of  society, 
and  their  attainments  are  unknown,  except  to  one  another,  or,  at 
most,  to  but  few  persons.  These  adepts  are  scientific  men,  and 
may  not  even  be  recognized  as  members  of  our  organization ; 
indeed  it  is  often  necessary,  for  obvious  reasons,  that  they  should 
not  be  known  as  such.  These  studies  must  constantly  be 
prosecuted  in  various  directions,  and  some  monitors  must  teach 
others  to  perform  certain  duties  that  are  necessary  to  the  grand 
evolution.  Hence,  when  a  man  has  become  one  of  our  brother- 
hood, from  the  promptings  that  made  you  one  of  us,  and  has 
been  as  ready  and  determined  to  instruct  outsiders  in  our  work 
as  you  have  been,  it  is  proper  that  he  should  in  turn  be  compelled 
to  serve  our  people,  and  eventually,  mankind." 

"  Am  I  to  infer  from  this,"  I  exclaimed,  a  sudden  light 
breaking  upon  me,  "that  the  alchemistic  manuscript  that  led 
me  to  the  fraternity  to  which  you  are  related  may  have  been 
artfully  designed  to  seiv^e  the  interest  of  that  organization?"  To 
this  question  I  received  no  reply.  After  an  interval,  I  again 
sought  information  concerning  the  order,  and  with  more  success. 

"  I  understand  that  you  propose  that  I  shall  go  on  a  journey 
of  investigation  for  the  good  of  our  order  and  also  of  humanity." 

"True ;  it  is  necessary  that  our  discoveries  be  kept  alive,  and 
it  is  essential  that  the  men  who  do  this  work  accept  the  trust  of 


78  ETIDORHPA. 

their  own  accord  He  who  will  not  consent  to  add  to  the  common 
stock  of  knowledge  and  understanding,  must  be  deemed  a  drone 
in  the  hive  of  nature — but  few  persons,  however,  are  called  upon 
to  serve  as  you  must  serve.  Men  are  scattered  over  the  world 
with  this  object  in  view,  and  are  unknown  to  their  families  or 
even  to  other  members  of  the  order ;  they  hold  in  solemn  trust 
our  sacred  revelations,  and  impart  them  to  others  as  is  ordained, 
and  thus  nothing  perishes ;  eventually  humanity  will  profit. 

"  Others,  as  you  soon  will  be  doing,  are  now  exploring 
assigned  sections  of  this  illimitable  field,  accumulating  further 
knowledge,  and  they  will  report  results  to  those  whose  duty  it  is 
to  retain  and  formulate  the  collected  sum  of  facts  and  principles. 
So  it  is  that,  unknown  to  the  great  body  of  our  brotherhood,  a 
chosen  number,  under  our  esoteric  teachings,  are  gradually 
passing  the  dividing  line  that  separates  life  from  death,  matter 
from  spirit,  for  we  have  members  who  have  mastered  these 
problems.  We  ask,  however,  no  aid  of  evil  forces  or  of  necrom- 
ancy or  black  art,  and  your  study  of  alchemy  was  of  no  avail, 
although  to  save  the  vital  truths  alchemy  is  a  part  of  our  work. 
We  proceed  in  exact  accordance  with  natural  laws,  which  will 
yet  be  known  to  all  men.  vSorrow,  suffering,  pain  of  all 
descriptions,  are  enemies  to  the  members  of  our  order,  as  they 
are  to  mankind  broadly,  and  we  hope  in  the  future  so  to  control 
the  now  hidden  secrets  of  Nature  as  to  be  able  to  govern  the 
antagonistic  disturbances  in  energy  with  which  man  now  is 
everywhere  thwarted,  to  subdue  the  physical  enemies  of  the  race, 
to  aflfiliate  religious  and  scientific  thought,  cultivating  brotherly 
love,  the  foundation  and  capstone,  the  cement  and  union  of  this 
ancient  fraternity." 

"And  am  I  really  to  take  an  important  part  in  this  scheme? 
Have  I  been  set  apart  to  explore  a  section  of  the  unknown  for  a 
bit  of  hidden  knowledge,  and  to  return  again?" 

"  This  I  will  say,"  he  answered,  evading  a  direct  reply,  "  you 
have  been  selected  for  a  part  that  one  in  a  thousand  has  been 
required  to  undertake.  You  are  to  pass  into  a  field  that  will 
carry  you  beyond  the  present  limits  of  human  observation. 
This  much  I  have  been  instructed  to  impart  to  you  in  order  to 
nerve  you  for  your  duty.  I  seem  to  be  a  young  man ;  really  I 
am  aged.     You  seem  to  be  infirm  and  old,  but  you  are  young. 


MY  JOURNEY  TOWARDS  THE  END  OF  EARTH  BEGINS.  79 

Many  years  ago,  cycles  ago  as  men  record  time,  I  was  promoted 
to  do  a  certain  work  because  of  my  zealous  nature ;  like  you,  I 
also  had  to  do  penance  for  an  error,  I  disappeared,  as  you  are 
destined  to  do,  from  the  sight  of  men.  I  regained  my  youth ; 
yours  has  been  lost  forever,  but  you  will  regain  more  than  your 
former  strength.  We  shall  both  exist  after  this  generation  of 
men  has  passed  away,  and  shall  mingle  with  generations  yet  to 
be  born,  for  we  shall  learn  how  to  restore  our  youthful  vigor,  and 
will  supply  it  time  and  again  to  earthly  matter.  Rest  assured 
also  that  the  object  of  our  labors  is  of  the  most  laudable  nature, 
and  we  must  be  upheld  under  all  difficulties  by  the  fact  that  mul- 
titudes of  men  who  are  yet  to  come  will  be  benefited  thereby." 


CHAPTER  XL 

MY  JOURXEY   CONTINUES. — INSTINCT. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  give  the  details  of  the  first  part 
of  my  long  journey.  My  companion  was  guided  by  a  perceptive 
faculty  that,  like  the  compass,  enabled  him  to  keep  in  the  proper 
course.  He  did  not  question  those  whom  we  met,  and  made  no 
endeavor  to  maintain  a  given  direction  ;  and  yet  he  was  traveling 
in  a  part  of  the  country  that  was  new  to  himself.  I  marveled  at 
the  accuracy  of  his  intuitive  perception,  for  he  seemed  never  to 
be  at  fault.  When  the  road  forked,  he  turned  to  the  right  or 
the  left  in  a  perfectly  careless  manner,  but  the  continuity  of  his 
course  was  never  interrupted.  I  began  mentally  to  question 
whether  he  could  be  guiding  us  aright,  forgetting  that  he  was 
reading  my  thoughts,  and  he  answered:  "There  is  nothing 
strange  in  this  self-directive  faculty.  Is  not  man  capable  of 
following  where  animals  lead?  One  of  the  objects  of  my  special 
study  has  been  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  instinct-power  of 
animals,  the  sagacity  of  brutes.  The  carrier  pigeon  will  fly  to  its 
cote  across  hundreds  of  miles  of  strange  country.  The  3'oung 
pig  will  often  return  to  its  pen  by  a  route  unknown  to  it ;  the 
sluggish  tortoise  will  find  its  home  without  a  guide,  without 
seeing  a  familiar  object ;  cats,  horses  and  other  animals  possess 
this  power,  which  is  not  an  unexplainable  instinct,  but  a  natural 
sense  better  developed  in  some  of  the  lower  creatures  than  it  is  in 
man.  The  power  lies  dormant  in  man,  but  exists,  nevertheless. 
If  we  develop  one  faculty  we  lose  acuteness  in  some  other  power. 
j\Ien  have  lost  in  mental  development  in  this  particular  direction 
while  seeking  to  gain  in  others.  If  there  were  no  record  of  the 
fact  that  light  brings  objects  to  the  recognition  of  the  mind 
through  the  agency  of  the  e5-e,  the  sense  of  sight  in  an  animal 
would  be  considered  by  men  devoid  of  it  as  adaptibility  to  extraor- 
dinary circumstances,  or  instinct.  So  it  is  that  animals  often 
see  clearlv  where  to  the  sense  of  man  there  is  onlv  darkness ; 

80 


MY  JOURNKY  CONTINUES.  81 

such  sight  is  not  irresponsive  action  without  consciousness  of  a 
purpose.  Man  is  not  very  magnanimous.  Instead  of  giving 
credit  to  the  lower  animals  for  superior  perception  in  many 
directions,  he  denies  to  them  the  conscious  possession  of  powers 
imperfectly  developed  in  mankind.  We  egotistically  aim  to  raise 
ourselves,  and  do  so  in  our  own  estimation  by  clothing  the  actions 
of  the  lower  animals  in  a  garment  of  irresponsibility.  Because 
we  can  not  understand  the  inwardness  of  their  power,  we  assert 
that  they  act  by  the  influence  of  instinct.  The  term  instinct,  as 
I  would  define  it,  is  an  expression  applied  by  men  to  a  series 
of  senses  which  man  possesses,  but  has  not  developed.  The 
word  is  used  by  man  to  characterize  the  mental  superiority  of 
other  animals  in  certain  directions  w^here  his  own  senses  are 
defective.  Instead  of  crediting  animals  with  these,  to  them, 
invaluable  faculties,  man  conceitedly  says  they  are  involuntary 
actions.  Ignorant  of  their  mental  status,  man  is  too  arrogant  to 
admit  that  lower  animals  are  superior  to  him  in  any  way.  But  we 
are  not  consistent.  Is  it  not  true  that  in  the  direction  in  which 
you  question  my  power,  some  men  by  cultivation  often  become 
expert  beyond  their  fellows?  and  such  men  have  also  given  very 
little  systematic  study  to  subjects  connected  with  these  undeniable 
mental  qualities.  The  hunter  will  hold  his  course  in  utter  dark- 
ness, passing  inequalities  in  the  ground,  and  avoiding  obstructions 
he  can  not  see.  The  fact  of  his  superiority  in  this  w^ay,  over 
others,  is  not  questioned,  although  he  can  not  explain  his  methods 
nor  understand  how  he  operates.  His  quickened  sense  is  often 
as  much  entitled  to  be  called  instinct  as  is  the  divining  power  of 
the  carrier  pigeon.  If  scholars  would  cease  to  devote  their  entire 
energies  to  the  development  of  the  material,  artistic,  or  scientific 
part  of  modern  civilization,  and  turn  their  attention  to  other 
forms  of  mental  culture,  many  beauties  and  powers  of  Nature 
now  unknown  would  be  revealed.  However,  this  can  not  be,  for 
under  existing  conditions,  the  strife  for  food  and  w^armth  is  the 
most  important  struggle  that  engages  mankind,  and  controls  our 
actions.  In  a  time  that  is  surely  to  come,  however,  when  the 
knowledge  of  all  men  is  united  into  a  comprehensive  whole,  the 
book  of  life,  illuminated  thereby,  will  contain  many  beautiful 
pages  that  may  be  easily  read,  but  which  are  now  not  suspected 
to  exist.     The  power  of  the  magnet  is  not  uniform — engineers 


82  IvTIDORHPA. 

know  that  the  needle  of  the  compass  inexpHcably  deviates  from 
time  to  time  as  a  line  is  run  over  the  earth's  surface,  but  they 
also  know  that  aberrations  of  the  needle  finally  correct  them- 
selves. The  temporary  variations  of  a  few  degrees  that  occur  in 
the  running  of  a  compass  line  are  usually  overcome  after  a  time, 
and  without  a  change  of  course,  the  disturbed  needle  swer\'es 
back,  and  again  points  to  the  calculated  direction,  as  is  shown 
bv  the  vernier.  Should  I  err  in  my  course,  it  would  be  by  a 
trifle  only,  and  we  could  not  go  far  astray  before  I  would 
unconsciously  discover  the  true  path.  I  carry  my  magnet  in 
my  mind." 

Many  such  dissertations  or  explanations  concerning  related 
questions  were  subsequently  made  in  what  I  then  considered  a 
very  impressive,  though  always  unsatisfactor\-,  manner.  I  recall 
those  episodes  now,  after  other  more  remarkable  experiences 
which  are  yet  to  be  related,  and  record  them  briefly  with  little 
wonderment,  because  I  have  gone  through  adventures  which 
demonstrate  that  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  statements, 
and  I  will  not  consume  time  with  further  details  of  this  part 
of  my  journey. 

We  leisurely  traversed  State  after  State,  crossed  rivers,  moun- 
tains and  seemingly  interminable  forests.  The  ultimate  object 
of  our  travels,  a  location  in  Kentucky,  I  afterward  learned,  led 
mv  companion  to  guide  me  by  a  roundabout  course  to  Wheeling, 
Virginia,  by  the  usual  mountain  roads  of  that  day,  instead  of 
going,  as  he  might  perhaps  have  much  more  easily  done,  via 
Buffalo  and  the  Lake  Shore  to  Northern  Ohio,  and  then  southerly 
across  the  country.  He  said  in  explanation,  that  the  time  lost 
at  the  beginning  of  our  journey  by  this  route,  was  more  than 
recompensed  by  the  ease  of  the  subsequent  Ohio  River  trip. 
Upon  reaching  Wheeling,  he  disposed  of  the  team,  and  we 
embarked  on  a  keel  boat,  and  journeyed  down  the  Ohio  to  Cin- 
cinnati. The  river  was  falling  when  we  started,  and  became 
very  low  before  Cincinnati  was  reached,  too  low  for  steamers, 
and  our  trip  in  that  flat-bottomed  boat,  on  the  sluggish  current 
of  the  tortuous  stream,  proved  tedious  and  slow.  Arriving  at 
Cincinnati,  my  guide  decided  to  wait  for  a  rise  in  the  river, 
designing  then  to  complete  our  journey  on  a  steamboat.  I 
spent  several  days  in  Cincinnati  quite  pleasantly,  expecting  to 


MY  JOURNF.Y  CONTINUES.  83 

continue  our  course  on  the  steamer  "  Tecumseh,"  then  in  port, 
and  read}'  for  departure.  At  the  last  moment  my  guide  changed 
his  mind,  and  instead  of  embarking  on  that  boat,  we  took  passage 
on  the  steamer  "George  Washington,"  leaving  Shipping-Port 
Wednesday,  December  13,  1826. 

During  that  entire  journey,  from  the  commencement  to  our 
final  destination,  my  guide  paid  all  the  bills,  and  did  not  want 
either  for  money  or  attention  from  the  people  with  whom  we 
came  in  contact.  He  seemed  everywhere  a  stranger,  and  yet 
was  possessed  of  a  talisman  that  opened  every  door  to  which  he 
applied,  and  which  gave  us  unlimited  accommodations  wherever 
he  asked  them.  When  the  boat  landed  at  Smithland,  Kentucky, 
a  village  on  the  bank  of  the  Ohio,  just  above  Paducah,  we  dis- 
embarked, and  my  guide  then  for  the  first  time  seemed  mentalh' 
disturbed. 

"Our  journey  together  is  nearly  over,"  he  said;  "in  a  few 
days  my  responsibility  for  you  will  cease.  Nerve  yourself  for 
the  future,  and  bear  its  trials  and  its  pleasures  manfully.  I  may 
never  see  you  again,  but  as  you  are  even  now  conspicuous  in  our 
history,  and  will  be  closely  connected  with  the  development  of 
the  plan  in  which  I  am  also  interested,  although  I  am  destined 
to  take  a  different  part,  I  shall  probably  hear  of  you  again." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   CAVERX    DISCOVERED. — BISWELL'S    HILL. 

We  stopped  that  night  at  a  tavern  in  Smithland.  Leaving 
this  place  after  dinner  the  next  day,  on  foot,  we  strnck  throngh 
the  conntry,  into  the  bottom  lands  of  the  Cnniberland  River 
traveling  leisurely,  lingering  for  hours  in  the  course  of  a  circui- 
tous tramp  of  only  a  few  miles.  Although  it  was  the  month 
of  December,  the  climate  was  mild  and  balmy.  In  my  former 
home,  a  similar  time  of  year  would  have  been  marked  with 
snow,  sleet,  and  ice,  and  I  could  not  but  draw  a  contrast 
between  the  two  localities.  How  different  also  the  scenery  from 
that  of  my  native  State.  Great  timber  trees,  oak,  poplar,  hickory, 
were  in  majestic  possession  of  large  tracts  of  territory,  in  the 
solitude  of  which  man,  so  far  as  evidences  of  his  presence  were 
concerned,  had  never  before  trodden.  From  time  to  time  we 
passed  little  clearings  that  probably  were  to  be  enlarged  tO' 
thrifty  plantations  in  the  future,  and  finally  we  crossed  the 
Cumberland  River.  That  night  we  rested  with  Mr.  Joseph 
Watts,  a  wealthy  and  cultured  land  owner,  who  resided  on 
the  river's  bank.  After  leaving  his  home  the  next  morning, 
we  journeyed  slowly,  very  slowly,  my  guide  seemingly  passing 
with  reluctance  into  the  country.  He  had  become  a  very 
pleasant  companion,  and  his  conversation  was  very  entertaining. 
We  struck  the  sharp  point  of  a  ridge  the  morning  we  left  ]Mr. 
Watts'  hospitable  house.  It  was  foiir  or  five  miles  distant,  but 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Cumberland,  from  Smithland.  Here 
a  steep  bluff  broke  through  the  bottom  land  to  the  river's  edge, 
the  base  of  the  bisected  point  being  washed  by  the  Cumberland 
River,  which  had  probably  cut  its  way  through  the  stony 
mineral  of  this  ridge  in  ages  long  passed.  We  climbed  to  its 
top  and  sat  upon  the  pinnacle,  and  from  that  point  of  command- 
ing observation  I  drank  in  the  beauties  of  the  scene  around  me. 
The* river  at  our  feet  wound  gracefully  before  us,  and  disappeared 

84 


SECTION    OF    KENTUCKY,    NEAR    SMITHLAND,    IN    WHICH     THE     ENTRANCE     TO 
THE    KENTUCKY   CAYERN   IS   SAID   TO   BE   I.OCATED. 


Paducah. 

Smithlaiid. 

Old  Smithland. 

Patterson. 

Frenchtown. 

Hickory  Creek. 

Underwood. 

Birdsville. 

Bayou  IMil'.s. 

Oak  Ridge. 

Moxlej-'s  Landing 

Kildare. 

Lola 

Pincknevville. 


15- 

Salem. 

16. 

Hampton. 

17. 

Faulkner. 

iS. 

Mullikin. 

19 

Back  Creek. 

20. 

Carrsville. 

21. 

Given's  Creek. 

22. 

Golconda. 

23- 

Elizabethtown. 

24. 

Metropolis  City 

25. 

Hamletsburgh 

26. 

Sheridan 

27. 

Deer  Creek 

28. 

Hurricane. 

Hurricane  Creek. 

Ford's  Ferry. 

Weston. 

Caseyville. 

Tradewater  River. 

Dycusburgh. 

Livingstone  Creek. 

Francis. 

Harrold.     (View.) 

Crider. 

Levias. 

Crayueville. 

IMarion. 


A  CAVERN  DISCOVERED.  87 

in  botli  directions,  its  extremes  dissolving  in  a  bed  of  forest.  A 
great  black  blnff,  far  up  the  stream,  rose  like  a  mountain,  upon 
the  left  side  of  the  river;  bottom  lands  were  about  us,  and 
hills  appeared  across  the  river  in  the  far  distance — towards  the 
Tennessee  River.  With  regret  I  finally  drew  my  eyes  from  the 
vision,  and  we  resumed  the  journey.  We  followed  the  left  bank 
of  the  river  to  the  base  of  the  black  bluff, — "  Biswell's  Hill,"  a 
squatter  called  it, — and  then  skirted  the  side  of  that  hill,  passing 
along  precipitous  stone  bluffs  and  among  stunted  cedars.  Above 
us  towered  cliff  over  cliff,  almost  perpendicularly ;  below  us  rolled 
the  river. 

I  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  changing  beauties  of  this 
strange  Kentucky  scenery,  but  marveled  at  the  fact  that  while  I 
became  light-hearted  and  enthusiastic,  my  guide  grew  corre- 
spondingly despondent  and  gloomy.  From  time  to  time  he 
lapsed  into  thoughtful  silence,  and  once  I  caught  his  eye  directed 
toward  me  in  a  manner  that  I  inferred  to  imply  either  pity 
or  envy.  We  passed  Biswell's  Bluff,  and  left,  the  Cumberland 
River  at  its  upper  extremity,  where  another  small  creek  empties 
into  the  river.  Thence,  after  ascending  the  creek  some  distance, 
we  struck  across  the  country,  finding  it  undulating  and  fertile, 
with  here  and  there  a  small  clearing.  During  this  journey  we 
either  camped  out  at  night,  or  stopped  with  a  resident,  when 
one  was  to  be  found  in  that  sparsely  settled  country.  Some- 
times there  were  exasperating  intervals  between  our  meals ;  but 
we  did  not  suffer,  for  we  carried  with  us  supplies  of  food,  such 
as  cheese  and  crackers,  purchased  in  Smithland,  for  emergencies. 
We  thus  proceeded  a  considerable  distance  into  Livingston 
County,  Kentucky. 

I  observed  remarkable  sinks  in  the  earth,  sometimes  cone- 
shaped,  again  precipitous.  These  cavities  were  occasionallv  of 
considerable  size  and  depth,  and  they  were  more  numerous  in 
the  uplands  than  in  the  bottoms.  They  Avere  somewhat  like 
the  familiar  "  sink-holes "  of  New  York  State,  but  monstrous 
in  comparison.  The  first  that  attracted  m)'  attention  was  near 
the  Cumberland  River,  just  before  we  reached  Biswell's  Hill.  It 
was  about  forty  feet  deep  and  thirty  in  diameter,  with  precipitous 
stone  sides,  shrubbery  growing  therein  in  exceptional  spots  where 
loose  earth  had  collected  on  shelves  of  stone  that  cropped  out 


88  ETIDORHPA. 

along  its  rugged  sides.  The  bottom  of  the  depression  was  flat 
and  fertile,  covered  with  a  luxuriant  mass  of  vegetation.  On 
one  side  of  the  base  of  the  gigantic  bowl,  a  cavern  struck  down 
into  the  earth.  I  stood  upon  the  edge  of  this  funnel-like  sink, 
and  marveled  at  its  peculiar  appearance.  A  spirit  of  curiosity, 
such  as  often  influences  men  when  an  unusual  natural  scene 
presents  itself,  possessed  me.  I  clambered  down,  swinging  from 
brush  to  brush,  and  stepping  from  shelving-rock  to  shelving-rock, 
until  I  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hollow,  and  placing  my  hand 
above  the  black  hole  in  its  center,  I  perceived  that  a  current  of 
cold  air  was  rushing  therefrom,  upward.  I  probed  with  a  long 
stick,  but  the  direction  of  the  opening  was  tortuous,  and  would 
not  admit  of  examination  in  that  manner.  I  dropped  a  large 
pebble-stone  into  the  orifice ;  the  pebble  rolled  and  clanked 
down,  down,  and  at  last,  the  sound  died  away  in  the  distance. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  go  into  the  cavity  as  that  stone  has 
done,  and  find  the  secrets  of  this  cave,"  I  reflected,  the  natural 
love  of  exploration  possessing  me  as  it  probably  does  most  men. 

My  companion  above,  seated  on  the  brink  of  the  stone  wall, 
replied  to  my  thoughts :  "  Your  wish  shall  be  granted.  You 
have  requested  that  which  has  already  been  laid  out  for  you. 
You  will  explore  where  few  men  have  passed  before,  and  will 
have  the  privilege  of  following  your  destiny  into  a  realm  of 
natural  wonders.  A  fertile  field  of  investigation  awaits  you, 
such  as  will  surpass  your  most  vivid  imaginings.  Come  and 
seat  yourself  beside  me,  for  it  is  my  duty  now  to  tell  you 
something  about  the  land  we  are  approaching,  the  cavern  fields 
of  Kentucky." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    PUNCH-BOWLS  AND  CAVERNS   OF    KENTUCKY. — "  INTO   THE 
UNKNOWN    COUNTRY." 

"  This  part  of  Kentucky  borders  a  field  of  caverns  that  reaches 
from  near  the  State  of  Tennessee  to  the  Ohio  River,  and  from 
the  month  of  the  Cumberland,  eastward  to  and  beyond  the 
center  of  the  State.  This  great  area  is  of  irregular  outline,  and 
as  yet  has  been  little  explored.  Underneath  the  surface  are 
layers  of  limestone  and  sandstone  rock,  the  deposits  ranging 
from  ten  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  thickness,  and  often 
great  masses  of  conglomerate  appear.  This  conglomerate  some- 
times caps  the  ridges,  and  varies  in  thickness  from  a  few  feet 
only,  to  sixty,  or  even  a  hundred,  feet.  It  is  of  a  diversified 
character,  sometimes  largely  composed  of  pebbles  cemented 
together  by  iron  ore  into  compact  beds,  while  again  it  passes 
abruptly  into  gritty  sandstone,  or  a  fine-grained  compact  rock 
destitute  of  pebbles.  Sometimes  the  conglomerate  rests  directly 
on  the  limestone,  but  in  the  section  about  us,  more  often  argil- 
laceous shales  or  veins  of  coal  intervene,  and  occasionally  inferior 
and  superior  layers  of  conglomerate  are  separated  by  a  bed  of 
coal.  In  addition,  lead-bearing  veins  now  and  then  crop  up,  the 
crystals  of  galena  being  disseminated  through  masses  of  fluor- 
spar, calc-spar,  limestone  and  clay,  which  fill  fissures  between 
tilted  walls  of  limestone  and  hard  quartzose  sandstone.  Valleys, 
hills,  and  mountains,  grow  out  of  this  remarkable  crust.  Rivers 
and  creeks  flow  through  and  under  it  in  crevices,  either  directly 
upon  the  bedstone  or  over  deposits  of  clay  which  underlie  it.  In 
some  j)laces,  beds  of  coal  or  slate  alternate  with  layers  of  the  lime 
rock ;  in  others,  the  interspace  is  clay  and  sand.  Sometimes  the 
depth  of  the  several  limestone  and  conglomerate  deposits  is  great, 
and  they  are  often  honeycombed  by  innumerable  transverse  and 
diagonal  spaces.  Water  drips  have  here  and  there  washed  out 
the  more  friable  earth  and  stone,  forming  grottoes  which  are 


90  KTIDORHPA. 

as  yet  unknown  to  men,  but  which  will  be  discovered  to  be 
wonderful  and  fantastic  beyond  anything  of  a  like  nature  now 
familiar.  In  other  places  cavities  exist  between  shelves  of  rock 
that  lie  one  above  the  other — monstrous  openings  caused  by 
the  erosive  action  of  rivers  now  lost,  but  that  have  flowed 
during  unnumbered  ages  past ;  great  parallel  valleys  and  gigantic 
chambers,  one  over  the  other,  remaining  to  tell  the  story  of 
these  former  torrents.  Occasionally  the  weight  of  a  portion  of 
the  disintegrating  rock  above  becomes  too  great  for  its  tensile 
strength  and  the  material  crumbles  and  falls,  producing  ca\erns 
sometimes  reaching  so  near  to  the  earth's  surface,  as  to  cause 
sinks  in  its  crust.  These  sinks,  when  first  formed,  as  a  rule,  prew- 
sent  clear  rock  fractures,  and  immediately  after  their  formation 
there  is  usually  a  water-way  beneath.  In  the  course  of  time 
soil  collects  on  their  sides,  they  become  cone-shaped  hollows 
from  the  down-slidings  of  earth,  and  then  vegetation  appears  on 
the  living  soil ;  trees  grow  within  them,  and  in  many  places  the 
sloping  sides  of  great  earth  bowls  of  this  nature  are,  after  untold 
years,  covered  with  the  virgin  forest ;  magnificent  timber  trees 
growing  on  soil  that  has  been  stratified  over  and  upon  decayed 
monarchs  of  the  forest  whose  remains,  imbedded  in  the  earth, 
speak  of  the  ages  that  have  passed  since  the  convulsions  that 
made  the  depressions  which,  notwithstanding  the  accumulated 
debris,  are  still  a  hundred  feet  or  more  in  depth.  If  the  drain 
or  exit  at  the  vortex  of  one  of  these  sinks  becomes  clogged, 
which  often  occurs,  the  entire  cavity  fills  with  water,  and  a  pond 
results.  Again,  a  slight  orifice  reaching  far  beneath  the  earth's 
surface  may  permit  the  soil  to  be  gradually  washed  into  a 
subterranean  creek,  and  thus  are  formed  great  bowls,  like 
funnels  sunk  in  the  earth — Kentucky  punch-bowls. 

"  Take  the  country  about  us,  especially  towards  the  Mammoth 
Cave,  and  for  miles  beyond,  the  landscape  in  certain  localities  is 
pitted  with  this  description  of  sinks,  some  recent,  others  very 
old.  Many  are  small,  but  deep ;  others  are  large  and  shallow. 
Ponds  often  of  great  depth,  curiously  enough  overflowing  and 
giving  rise  to  a  creek,  are  to  be  found  on  a  ridge,  telling  of 
underground  supply  springs,  not  outlets,  beneath.  Chains  of 
such  sinks,  like  a  row  of  huge  funnels,  often  appear;  the  soil 
between  them  is  slowly  washed  through  their  exit  into  the  river, 


THE  PUNCH-BOWLS  AND  CAVHRNS  OF  KENTUCKY.  91 

flowing  in  the  depths  below,  and  as  the  earth  that  separates  them 
is  carried  away  by  the  subterranean  streams,  the  bowls  coalesce, 
and  a  ravine,  closed  at  both  ends,  results.  Along  the  bottom  of 
such  a  ravine,  a  creek  may  flow,  rushing  from  its  natural  tunnel 
at  one  end  of  the  line,  and  disappearing  in  a  gulf  at  the  other. 
The  stream  begins  in  mystery,  and  ends  in  unfathomed  darkness. 
Near  Marion,  Hiirricane  Creek  thus  disappears,  and,  so  far  as 
men  know,  is  lost  to  sight  forever.  Near  Cridersville,  in  this 
neighborhood,  a  valley  such  as  I  have  described,  takes  in  the 
surface  floods  of  a  large  tract  of  country.  The  waters  that  run 
down  its  sides,  during  a  storm  form  a  torrent,  and  fence-rails, 
timbers,  and  other  objects  are  gulped  into  the  chasm  where  the 
creek  plunges  into  the  earth,  and  they  never  appear  again.  This 
part  of  Kentucky  is  the  most  remarkable  portion  of  the  known 
world,  and  although  now  neglected,  in  a  time  to  come  is  surely 
destined  to  an  extended  distinction.  I  have  referred  only  to  the 
surface,  the  skin  formation  of  this  honeycombed  labyrinth,  the 
entrance  to  the  future  wonderland  of  the  world.  Portions  of  such 
a  superficial  cavern  maze  have  been  traversed  by  man  in  the 
ramifications  known  as  the  Mammoth  Cave,  but  deeper  than 
man  has  yet  explored,  the  subcutaneous  structure  of  that  series 
of  caverns  is  yet  to  be  investigated.  The  Mammoth  Cave  as  now 
traversed  is  simply  a  superficial  series  of  grottoes  and  passages 
overlying  the  deeper  cavern  field  that  I  have  described.  The 
explored  chain  of  passages  is  of  great  interest  to  men,  it  is  true, 
but  of  minor  importance  compared  to  others  yet  unknown,  being 
in  fact,  the  result  of  mere  surface  erosion.  The  river  that  bisects 
the  cave,  just  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  known  as 
Echo  River,  is  a  miniature  stream :  there  are  others  more  mag- 
nificent that  flow  majestically  far,  far  beneath  it.  As  we  descend 
into  the  earth  in  that  locality,  caverns  multiply  in  number  and 
increase  in  size,  retaining  the  general  configuration  of  those  I 
have  described.  The  layers  of  rock  are  thicker,  the  intervening 
spaces  broader ;  and  the  spaces  stretch  in  increasingly  expanded 
chambers  for  miles,  while  high  above  each  series  of  caverns  the 
solid  ceilings  of  stone  arch  and  interarch.  Sheltered  under  these 
subterrene  alcoves  are  streams,  lakes,  rivers  and  water-falls.  Near 
the  surface  of  the  earth  such  waters  often  teem  with  aquatic  life, 
and  some  of  the  caves  are  inhabited  by  species  of  birds,  reptiles 


92  I'TIDORIirA. 

and  mammals  as  yet  unknown  to  men,  creatures  possessed  of 
senses  and  organs  that  are  different  from  any  we  find  with  surface 
animals,  and  also  apparently  defective  in  particulars  that  would 
startle  persons  acquainted  only  with  creatures  that  live  in  the 
sunshine.  It  is  a  world  beneath  a  world,  a  world  within  a 
world — ■"     My  guide  abruptly  stopped. 

1  sat  entranced,  marveling  at  the  young-old  adept's  knowl- 
edge, admiring  his  accomplishments.  I  gazed  into  the  ca\-ity 
that  yawned  beneath  me,  and  imagined  its  possible  but  to  me 
invisible  secrets,  enraptured  with  the  thought  of  searcliing  into 
them.  Who  would  not  feel  elated  at  the  prospect  of  an  explor- 
ation, such  as  I  foresaw  might  be  pursued  in  my  immediate 
future?  I  had  often  been  charmed  with  narrative  descriptions 
of  discoveries,  and  book  accounts  of  scientific  investigations,  but 
I  had  never  pictured  myself  as  a  participant  in  such  fascinating 
enterprises. 

"Indeed,  indeed,"  I  cried  exultingly;  "lead  me  to  this  Won- 
derland, show  me  the  entrance  to  this  Subterranean  World,  and 
I  promise  willingly  to  do  as  you  bid." 

"Bravo!"  he  replied,  "your  heart  is  right,  your  courage- 
sufficient  ;  I  have  not  disclosed  a  thousandth  part  of  the  wonders 
which  I  have  knowledge  of,  and  which  await  your  research,  and 
probably  I  have  not  gained  even  an  insight  into  the  mysteries  that, 
if  your  courage  permits,  you  will  be  privileged  to  comprehend. 
Your  destiny  lies  beyond,  far  beyond  that  which  I  have  pictured 
or  experienced ;  and  I,  notwithstanding  my  opportunities,  have 
no  conception  of  its  end,  for  at  the  critical  moment  my  heart 
faltered — I  can  therefore  only  describe  the  beginning." 

Thus  at  the  lower  extremity  of  Biswell's  Hill,  I  was  made 
aware  of  the  fact  that,  within  a  short  time,  I  should  be  separated 
from  my  sympathetic  guide,  and  that  it  was  to  be  my  duty 
to  explore  alone,  or  in  other  company,  some  portion  of  these 
Kentucky  cavern  deeps,  and  I  longed  for  the  beginning  of  my 
underground  journey.  Heav^ens !  how  different  would  have  been 
my  future  life  could  I  then  have  realized  my  position !  Would 
that  I  could  have  seen  the  end.  After  a  few  days  of  uneventful 
travel,  we  rested,  one  afternoon,  in  a  hilly  country  that  before 
us  appeared  to  be  more  rugged,  even  mountainous.  We  had 
wandered  leisureU-,  and  were  now  at  a  considerable  distance  from 


THE  PUNCH-BOWLS  AND  CAVERNS  OF  KIvNTUCKY.  93 

the  Cumberland  River,  the  aim  of  my  guide  being,  as  I  surmised, 
to  evade  a  direct  approach  to  some  object  of  interest  which  I  must 
not  locate  exactly,  and  yet  which  I  shall  try  to  describe  accurately 
enough  for  identification  by  a  person  familiar  with  the  topog- 
raphy of  that  section.  We  stood  on  the  side  of  a  stony,  sloping 
hill,  back  of  which  spread  a  wooded,  undulating  valley. 

"  I  remember  to  have  passed  along  a  creek  in  that  valley,"  I 
remarked,  looking  back  over  our  pathway.  "  It  appeared  to  rise 
from  this  direction,  but  the  source  ends  abruptly  in  this  chain 
of  hills." 

"The  stream  is  beneath  us,"  he  answered.  Advancing  a  few 
paces,  he  brought  to  my  attention,  on  the  hillside,  an  opening 
in  the  earth.  This  aperture  was  irregular  in  form,  about  the 
diameter  of  a  well,  and  descended  perpendicularly  into  the  stony 
crust.  I  leaned  far  over  the  orifice,  and  heard  the  gurgle  of 
rushing  water  beneath.  The  guide  dropped  a  heavy  stone  into 
the  gloomy  shaft,  and  in  some  seconds  a  diiU  splash  announced 
its  plunge  into  underground  water.  Then  he  leaned  over  the 
stony  edge,  and — could  I  be  mistaken? — seemed  to  signal  to 
some  one  beneath;  but  it  must  be  imagination  on  my  part,  I 
argued  to  myself,  even  against  my  very  sense  of  sight.  Rising, 
and  taking  me  by  the  hand,  my  guardian  spoke : 

"  Brother,  we  approach  the  spot  where  you  and  I  must 
separate.  I  serve  my  masters  and  am  destined  to  go  where 
I  shall  next  be  commanded ;  you  will  descend  into  the  earth,  as 
30U  have  recently  desired  to  do.  Here  we  part,  most  likely 
forever.  This  rocky  fissure  will  admit  the  last  ray  of  sunlight 
on  your  path." 

My  heart  failed.  How  often  are  we  courageous  in  daylight 
and  timid  by  night?  Men  unflinchingly  face  in  sunshine 
dangers  at  which  they  shudder  in  the  darkness. 

"How  am  I  to  descend  into  that  abyss?"  I  gasped.  "The 
sides  are  perpendicular,  the  depth  is  unknown!"  Then  I  cried 
in  alarm,  the  sense  of  distrust  deepening :  "  Do  you  mean  to  drown 
me ;  is  it  for  this  you  have  led  me  away  from  my  native  State, 
from  friends,  home  and  kindred  ?  You  have  enticed  me  into  this 
wilderness.  I  have  been  decoyed,  and,  like  a  foolish  child,  have 
willingly  accompanied  my  destroyer.  You  feared  to  murder  me 
in   my  distant  home ;    the  earth    could    not   have    hidden   me ; 


94  ETIDORHPA. 

Niagara  even  might  liave  given  np  my  body  to  dismay  the  mnr- 
derers!  In  this  nnderground  river  in  the  wilds  of  Kentncky,  all 
trace  of  my  existence  will  disappear  forever." 

I  was  growing  furions.  My  frenzied  eyes  searched  the  gronnd 
for  some  missile  of  defense.  By  strange  chance  some  one  had 
left,  on  that  solitary  spot,  a  rude  weapon,  providentially  dropped 
for  my  use,  I  thought.  It  was  a  small  iron  bolt  or  bar,  somewhat 
rusted.  I  threw  myself  upon  the  earth,  and,  as  I  did  so,  picked 
this  up  quickly,  and  secreted  it  within  my  bosom.  Then  I  arose 
and  resumed  my  stormy  denunciation : 

"  You  have  played  your  part  well,  you  have  led  your  unre- 
sisting victim  to  the  sacrifice,  but  if  I  am  compelled  to  plunge 
into  this  black  grave,  you  shall  go  with  me!"  I  shrieked  in 
desperation,  and  suddenly  threw  my  arms  around  the  gentle 
adept,  intending  to  hurl  him  into  the  chasm.  At  this  point  I 
felt  my  hands  seized  from  behind  in  a  cold,  clammy,  irresistible 
embrace,  my  fingers  were  loosed  by  a  strong  grasp,  and  I  turned, 
to  find  myself  confronted  by  a  singular  looking  being,  who 
quietly  said : 

"You  are  not  to  be  destroyed;  we  wish  only  to  do  your 
bidding." 

The  speaker  stood  in  a  stooping  position,  with  his  face 
towards  the  earth  as  if  to  shelter  it  from  the  sunshine.  He  was 
less  than  five  feet  in  height.  His  arms  and  legs  were  bare,  and 
his  skin,  the  color  of  light  blue  putty,  glistened  in  the  sunlight 
like  the  slimy  hide  of  a  water  dog.  He  raised  his  head,  and  I 
shuddered  in  affright  as  I  beheld  that  his  face  was  not  that  of 
a  human.  His  forehead  extended  in  an  unbroken  plane  from 
crown  to  cheek  bone,  and  the  chubby  tip  of  an  abortive  nose 
without  nostrils  formed  a  short  projection  near  the  center  of  the 
level  ridge  which  represented  a  countenance.  There  was  no 
semblance  of  an  eye,  for  there  were  no  sockets.  Yet  his  voice 
was  singularly  perfect.  His  face,  if  face  it  could  be  called,  was 
wet,  and  water  dripped  from  all  parts  of  his  slippery  person. 
Yet,  repulsive  as  he  looked,  I  shuddered  more  at  the  remem- 
brance of  the  touch  of  that  cold,  clammy  hand  than  at  the  sight 
of  his  figure,  for  a  dead  man  could  not  have  chilled  me  as  he  had 
done,  'with  his  sappy  skin,  from  which  the  moisture  seemed  to 
ooze  as  from  the  hide  of  a  water  lizard. 


"confronted  by  a  singular  looking  being." 


THE  PUNCH-BOWLS  AND  CAVERNS  OF  KENTUCKY.  97 

Turning  to  my  guide,  this  freak  of  nature  said,  softly : 

"  I  have  come  in  obedience  to  the  signal." 

I  realized  at  once  that  alone  with  these  two  I  was  powerless, 
and  that  to  resist  would  be  suicidal.  Instantly  my  effervescing 
passion  subsided,  and  I  expressed  no  further  surprise  at  this 
sudden  and  remarkable  apparition,  but  mentally  acquiesced.  I 
was  alone  and  helpless ;  rage  gave  place  to  inertia  in  the 
despondency  that  followed  the  realization  of  my  hopeless  condi- 
tion. The  grotesque  newcomer  who,  though  sightless,  possessed 
a  strange  instinct,  led  us  to  the  base  of  the  hill  a  few  hundred 
feet  away,  and  there,  gushing  into  the  light  from  the  rocky  bluff,  I 
saw  a  magnificent  stream  issuing  many  feet  in  width.  This  was 
the  head-waters  of  the  mysterious  brook  that  I  had  previously 
noticed.  It  flowed  from  an  archway  in  the  solid  stone,  springing 
directly  out  of  the  rock-bound  cliff;  beautiful  and  picturesque  in 
its  surroundings.  The  limpid  water,  clear  and  sparkling,  issued 
from  the  unknown  source  that  was  typical  of  darkness,  but  the 
brook  of  crystal  leaped  into  a  world  of  sunshine,  light  and 
freedom. 

"Brother,"  said  my  companion,  "this  spring  emerging  from 
this  prison  of  earth  images  to  us  what  humanity  will  be  when 
the  prisoning  walls  of  ignorance  that  now  enthrall  him  are 
removed,  Man  has  heretofore  relied  chiefly  for  his  advancement, 
both  mental  and  physical,  on  knowledge  gained  from  so-called 
scientific  explorations  and  researches  with  matter,  from  material 
studies  rather  than  spiritual,  all  his  investigations  having  been 
confined  to  the  crude,  coarse  substance  of  the  surface  of  the 
globe.  Spiritualistic  investigations,  unfortunately,  are  considered 
by  scientific  men  too  often  as  reaching  backward  only.  The 
religions  of  the  world  clasp  hands  with,  and  lean  upon,  the  dead 
past,  it  is  true,  but  point  to  a  living  future.  Man  must  yet  search 
by  the  agency  of  senses  and  spirit,  the  unfathomed  mysteries 
that  lie  beneath  his  feet  and  over  his  head,  and  he  who  refuses 
to  bow  to  the  Creator  and  honor  his  handiwork  discredits  himself. 
When  this  work  is  accomplished,  as  it  yet  will  be,  the  future 
man,  able  then  to  comprehend  the  problem  of  life  in  its  broader 
significance,  drawing  from  all  directions  the  facts  necessary  to 
his  mental  advancement,  will  have  reached  a  state  in  which  he 
can    enjoy   bodily    comfort    and    supreme    spiritual    perfection, 


98  irriDORiii'A. 

while  he  is  yet  an  earth-bound  mortal.  In  hastening  this 
consummation,  it  is  necessary  that  an  occasional  human  life 
should  be  lost  to  the  world,  but  such  sacrifices  are  noble — yes, 
sublime,  because  contribiiting  to  the  future  exaltation  of  our 
race.  The  secret  workers  in  the  sacred  order  of  which  you  are 
still  a  member,  have  ever  taken  an  important  part  in  further- 
ing such  a  system  of  evolution.  This  feature  of  our  work 
is  unknown  to  brethren  of  the  ordinary  fraternity,  and  the 
individual  research  of  each  secret  messenger  is  unguessed,  by 
the  craft  at  large.  Hence  it  is  that  the  open  workers  of  our 
order,  those  initiated  by  degrees  only,  who  in  lodge  rooms  carry 
on  their  beneficent  labors  among  men,  have  had  no  hand  other 
than  as  agents  in  your  removal,  and  no  knowledge  of  your 
present  or  future  movements.  Their  function  is  to  keep  together 
our  organization  on  earth,  and  from  them  only  an  occasional 
member  is  selected,  as  you  have  been,  to  perform  special  duties 
in  certain  adventurous  studies.  Are  you  willing  to  go  on  this 
journey  of  exploration?  and  are  you  brave  enough  to  meet  the 
trials  you  have  invited?" 

Again  my  enthusiasm  arose,  and  I  felt  the  thrill  experienced 
by  an  investigator  who  stands  on  the  brink  of  an  important 
discovery,  and  needs  but  courage  to  advance,  and  I  answered, 
"  Yes." 

"  Then,  farewell ;  this  archway  is  the  entrance  that  will  admit 
you  into  your  arcanum  of  usefulness.  This  mystic  Brother, 
though  a  stranger  to  you,  has  long  been  apprised  of  our  coming, 
and  it  was  he  who  sped  me  on  my  journey  to  seek  you,  and  who 
has  since  been  waiting  for  us,  and  is  to  be  your  guide  during  the 
first  stages  of  your  subterrenc  progress.  He  is  a  Friend,  and,  if 
^•ou  trust  him,  will  protect  you  from  harm.  You  will  find  the 
necessaries  of  life  supplied,  for  I  have  traversed  part  of  your 
coming  road ;  that  part  I  therefore  know,  but,  as  I  have  said, 
you  are  to  go  deeper  into  the  unexplored, — yes,  into  and  beyond 
the  Beyond,  until  finally  you  will  come  to  the  gateway  that 
leads  into  the  '  Unknown  Country.'  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FAREWELL  TO  GOD'S  SUNSHINE. — THE  ECHO  OF  THE  CRY. 

Thus  speaking,  my  quiet  leader,  who  had  so  long  been  as  a 
shepherd  to  my  wandering  feet,  on  the  upper  earth,  grasped  my 
hands  tightly,  and  placed  them  in  those  of  my  new  companion, 
whose  clammy  fingers  closed  over  them  as  with  a  grip  of  iron. 
The  mysterious  being,  now  my  custodian,  turned  towards  the 
creek,  drawing  me  after  him,  and  together  we  silently  and 
solemnly  waded  beneath  the  stone  archway.  As  I  passed  under 
the  shadow  of  that  dismal,  yawning  cliff,  I  turned  my  head  to 
take  one  last  glimpse  of  the  world  I  had  known — that  "  warm 
precinct  of  the  cheerful  day," — and  tears  sprang  to  my  eyes.  I 
thought  of  life,  family,  friends, — of  all  for  which  men  live — 
and  a  melancholy  vision  arose,  that  of  my  lost,  lost  home.  My 
dear  companion  of  the  journey  that  had  just  ended  stood  in 
the  sunlight  on  the  banks  of  the  rippling  stream,  gazing  at  us 
intently,  and  waved  an  affectionate  farewell.  My  uncouth  new 
associate  (guide  or  master,  whichever  he  might  be),  of  the 
journey  to  come,  clasped  me  firmly  by  the  arms,  and  waded 
slowly  onward,  thrusting  me  steadily  against  the  cold  current, 
and  with  irresistible  force  pressed  me  into  the  thickening  dark- 
ness. The  daylight  disappeared,  the  pathway  contracted,  the 
water  deepened  and  became  more  chilly.  We  were  constrained 
to  bow  our  heads  in  order  to  avoid  the  overhanging  vault  of 
stone ;  the  water  reached  to  my  chin,  and  now  the  down-jutting 
roof  touched  the  crown  of  my  head ;  then  I  shuddered  con\ul- 
sively  as  the  last  ray  of  daylight  disappeared. 

Had  it  not  been  for  my  companion,  I  know  that  I  should 
have  sunk  in  despair,  and  drowned;  but  with  a  firm  hand  he 
held  my  head  above  the  water,  and  steadily  pushed  me  onward. 
I  had  reached  the  extreme  of  despondency :  I  neither  feared  nor 
cared  for  life  nor  death,  and  I  realized  that,  powerless  to  control 
mv  own  acts,  my  fate,  the  future,  mv  existence  depended  on  the 

99 


100  ETIDORHPA. 

strange  being  beside  nie.  I  was  mysteriously  sustained,  however, 
bv  a  sense  of  bodih-  security,  such  as  conies  over  us  as  when  in 
the  hands  of  an  experienced  guide  we  journey  through  a  wilder- 
ness, for  I  felt  that  my  pilot  of  the  underworld  did  not  purpose 
to  destroy  me.  We  halted  a  moment,  and  then,  as  a  faint  light 
overspread  us,  my  eyeless  guide  directed  me  to  look  upward. 

"  We  now  stand  beneath  the  crevice  which  you  were  told  by 
your  former  guide  would  admit  the  last  ray  of  sunlight  on  your 
path.  I  also  say  to  you,  this  struggling  ray  of  sunlight  is  to  be 
your  last  for  years." 

I  gazed  above  me,  feeling  all  the  wretchedness  of  a  dying 
man  who,  with  faculties  intact,  might  stand  on  the  dark  edge  of 
the  hillside  of  eternity,  glancing  back  into  the  bright  world ;  and 
that  small  opening  far,  far  overhead,  seemed  as  the  gate  to 
Paradise  Lost.  Many  a  person,  assured  of  ascending  at  will, 
has  stood  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  well  or  shaft  to  a  mine,  and 
even  then  felt  the  undescribable  sensation  of  dread,  often  terror, 
that  is  produced  by  such  a  situation.  Awe,  mystery,  uncertainty 
of  life  and  future  superadded,  may  express  my  sensation.  I 
trembled,  shrinking  in  horror  from  my  captor  and  struggled 
violently. 

"  Hold,  hold,"  I  begged,  as  one  involuntarily  prays  a  sur- 
geon to  delay  the  incision  of  the  amputating  knife,  "just  one 
moment."  My  companion,  unheeding,  moved  on,  the  light 
vanished  instantly,  and  we  were  surrounded  by  total  darkness. 
God's  sunshine  was  blotted  out. 

Then  I  again  became  unconcerned ;  I  was  not  now  responsible 
for  my  own  existence,  and  the  feeling  that  I  experienced  when  a 
prisoner  in  the  closed  carriage  returned.  I  grew  careless  as  to 
my  fate,  and  with  stolid  indifference  struggled  onward  as  we  pro- 
gressed slowly  against  the  current  of  water.  I  began  to  interest 
myself  in  speculations  regarding  our  surroundings,  and  the  object 
or  outcome  of  our  journey.  In  places  the  water  was  shallow, 
scarce  reaching  to  our  ankles ;  again  it  was  so  deep  that  we  could 
wade  only  with  exertion,  and  at  times  the  passage  up  which  we 
toiled  was  so  narrow,  that  it  would  scarcely  admit  us.  After  a 
long,  laborious  stemming  of  the  unseen  brook,  my  companion 
directed  me  to  close  my  mouth,  hold  my  nostrils  with  my  fingers, 
and  stoop ;  almost  diving  with  me  beneath  the  water,  he  drew 


■THIS    STRUGGLING    RAY   OF    SUNUGHT    IS    TO    BE    YOUR    LAST 

FOR   YEARS." 


FAREWELIv  TO  GOD'S  SUNSHINE.  103 

me  through  the  submerged  crevice,  and  we  ascended  into  an  open 
chamber,  and  left  the  creek  behind  us.  I  fancied  that  we  were 
in  a  large  room,  and  as  I  shouted  aloud  to  test  my  hypothesis, 
echo  after  echo  answered,  until  at  last  the  cry  reverberated  and 
died  away  in  distant  murmurs.  We  were  evidently  in  a  great 
pocket  or  cavern,  through  which  my  guide  now  walked  rapidlv ; 
indeed,  he  passed  along  with  unerring  footsteps,  as  certain  of  his 
course  as  I  might  be  on  familiar  ground  in  full  daylight.  I 
perceived  that  he  systematically  evaded  inequalities  that  I  could 
not  anticipate  nor  see.  He  would  tell  me  to  step  up  or  down, 
as  the  surroundings  required,  and  we  ascended  or  descended 
accordingly.  Our  path  turned  to  the  right  or  the  left  from  time  to 
time,  but  my  eyeless  guide  passed  through  what  were  evidently 
the  most  tortuous  windings  without  a  mishap.  I  wondered 
much  at  this  gift  of  knowledge,  and  at  last  overcame  my  reserve 
sufficiently  to  ask  how  we  could  thus  unerringly  proceed  in  utter 
darkness.     The  reply  was : 

"  The  path  is  plainly  visible  to  me ;  I  see  as  clearly  in  pitch 
darkness  as  you  can  in  sunshine." 

"Explain  yourself  further,"  I  requested. 

He  replied,  "Not  yet;"  and  continued,  "you  are  weary,  we 
will  rest." 

He  conducted  me  to  a  seat  on  a  ledge,  and  left  me  for  a 
time.  Returning  soon,  he  placed  in  my  hands  food  which  I  ate 
with  novel  relish.  The  pabulum  seemed  to  be  of  vegetable 
origin,  though  varieties  of  it  had  a  peculiar  flesh-like  flavor. 
Several  separate  and  distinct  substances  were  contained  in  the 
queer  viands,  some  portions  savoring  of  wholesome  flesh,  while 
others  possessed  the  delicate  flavors  of  various  fruits,  such  as  the 
strawberry  and  the  pineapple.  The  strange  edibles  were  of  a 
pulpy  texture,  homogeneous  in  consistence,  parts  being  juicy  and 
acid  like  grateful  fruits.  Some  portions  were  in  slices  or  films 
that  I  could  hold  in  my  hand  like  sections  of  a  velvet  melon, 
and  yet  were  in  many  respects  unlike  any  other  food  that  I  had 
ever  tasted.  There  was  neither  rind  nor  seed ;  it  seemed  as 
though  I  were  eating  the  gills  of  a  fish,  and  in  answer  to  my 
question  the  guide  remarked: 

"Yes;  it  is  the  gill,  but  not  the  gill  of  a  fish.  You  will  be 
instructed  in  due  time."     I  will  add  that  after  this,  whenever 


104  ETIDORHPA. 

necessary,  we  were  supplied  with  food,  but  both  thirst  and 
hunger  disappeared  altogether  before  our  underground  journey 
was  finished. 

After  a  while  we  again  began  our  journey,  which  we  con- 
tinued in  what  was  to  me  absolute  darkness.  My  strength 
seemed  to  endure  the  fatigue  to  a  wonderful  degree,  notwith- 
standing that  we  must  have  been  walking  hour  after  hour,  and 
I  expressed  a  curiosity  about  the  fact.  My  guide  replied  that 
the  atmosphere  of  the  cavern  possessed  an  intrinsic  vitalizing 
power  that  neutralized  fatigue,  "  or,"  he  said,  "  there  is  here  an 
inherent  constitutional  energy  derived  from  an  active  gaseous 
substance  that  belongs  to  cavern  air  at  this  depth,  and  sustains 
the  life  force  by  contributing  directly  to  its  conservation,  taking 
the  place  of  food  and  drink." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  I  said. 

"  No;  and  you  do  not  comprehend  how  ordinary  air  supports 
mind  and  vitalizes  muscle,  and  at  the  same  time  wears  out  both 
muscle  and  all  other  tissues.  These  are  facts  which  are  not 
satisfactorily  explained  by  scientific  statements  concerning  oxy- 
crenation  of  the  blood.  As  we  descend  into  the  earth  we  find  an 
increase  in  the  life  force  of  the  cavern  air." 

This  reference  to  surface  earth  recalled  my  former  life,  and 
led  me  to  contrast  my  present  situation  with  that  I  had  forfeited. 
I  was  seized  with  an  uncontrollable  longing  for  home,  and  a  pain- 
ful craving  for  the  past  took  possession  of  my  heart,  but  with  a 
strong  effort  I  shook  off  the  sensations.  We  traveled  on  and  on 
in  silence  and  in  darkness,  and  I  thought  again  of  the  strange 
remark  of  my  former  guide  who  had  said:  "You  are  destined  to 
go  deeper  into  the  unknown;  yes,  into  and  beyond  the  Beyond." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   ZONE    OF    LIGHT    DEEP   WITHIN    THE    EARTH. 

"  Oil !  for  one  glimpse  of  light,  a  ray  of  sunshine  !" 

In  reply  to  this  my  mental  ejaculation,  my  guide  said:  "Can 
not  you  perceive  that  the  darkness  is  becoming  less  intense?" 

'*  No,"  I  answered,  "  I  can  not ;  night  is  absolute." 

"Are  you  sure?"  he  asked.  "Cover  your  eyes  with  your 
hands,  then  uncover  and  open  them."  I  did  so  and  fancied  that 
by  contrast  a  faint  gray  hue  was  apparent. 

"  This  must  be  imagination." 

"  No ;  we  now  approach  a  zone  of  earth  light ;  let  us  hasten  on." 

"  A  zone  of  light  deep  in  the  earth  !  Incomprehensible  !  In- 
credible !"  I  muttered,  and  yet  as  we  went  onward  and  time 
passed  the  darkness  was  less  intense.  The  barely  perceptible 
hue  became  gray  and  somber,  and  then  of  a  pearly  translucence, 
and  although  I  could  not  distinguish  the  outline  of  objects,  yet  I 
unquestionably  perceived  light. 

"  I  am  amazed  !  What  can  be  the  cause  of  this  phenomenon  ? 
What  is  the  nature  of  this  mysterious  halo  that  surrounds  us?" 
I  held  my  open  hand  before  my  eyes,  and  perceived  the  darkness 
of  my  spread  fingers. 

"It  is  light,  it  is  light,"  I  shouted,  "it  is  really  light!"  and 
from  near  and  from  far  the  echoes  of  that  subterranean  cavern 
answered  back  joyfully,  "  It  is  light,  it  is  light !" 

I  wept  in  joy,  and  threw  my  arms  about  my  guide,  forgetting 
in  the  ecstasy  his  clammy  cuticle,  and  danced  in  hysterical  glee 
and  alternately  laughed  and  cried.  ■  How  vividly  I  realized  then 
that  the  imprisoned  miner  would  give  a  world  of  gold,  his  former 
god,  for  a  ray  of  light. 

"  Compose  yourself;  this  emotional  exhibition  is  an  evidence 
of  weakness;  an  investigator  should  neither  become  depressed 
over  a  reverse,  nor  unduly  enthusiastic  over  a  fortunate  dis- 
covery." 

105 


106 


ETIDORHPA. 


"  But  we  approach  the  earth's  surface  ?  vSoou  I  will  be  back 
in  the  sunshine  again." 

"  Upon  the  contrary,  we  have  been  continually  descending 
into  the  earth,  and  we  are  now  ten  miles  or  more  beneath  the 
level  of  the  ocean." 


"WK   APPROACH   DAYUOHT,  I   CAK   SEE   YOUR   FORM." 


I  shrank  back,  hesitated,  and  in  despondency  gazed  at  his 
hazy  outline,  then,  as  if  palsied,  sank  upon  the  stony  floor ;  but 
as  I  saw  the  light  before  me,  I  leaped  up  and  shouted : 

"  What  you  say  is  not  true  ;  we  approach  daylight,  I  can  see 
your  form." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Can  not  )ou  understand  that  I 
have  led  you  continually  down  a  steep  descent,  and  that  for 
hours  there  has  been  no  step. upward?     With  but  little  exertion 


A  ZONE  OF  IvIGIIT  DEEP  WITHIN  THE  EARTH.  107 

yon  have  walked  this  distance  withont  becoming  wearied,  and 
yon  could  not,  withont  great  fatigue,  have  ascended  for  so  long 
a  period.  You  are  entering  a  zone  of  inner  earth  light ;  we  are 
in  the  surface,  the  upper  edge  of  it.  Let  us  hasten  on,  for  when 
this  cavern  darkness  is  at  an  end — and  I  will  say  we  have  nearly 
passed  that  limit — your  courage  will  return,  and  then  we  will 
rest." 

"  You  surely  do  not  speak  the  truth  ;  science  and  philosophy, 
and  I  am  somewhat  versed  in  both,  have  never  told  me  of  such 
a  light." 

"Can  philosophers  more  than  speculate  about  that  which 
they  have  not  experienced  if  they  have  no  data  from  which  to 
calculate?  Name  the  student  in  science  who  has  reached  this 
depth  in  earth,  or  has  seen  a  man  to  tell  him  of  these  facts?" 

"  I  can  not." 

"  Then  why  should  you  have  expected  any  of  them  to 
describe  our  surroundings?  Alisguided  men  will  torture  science 
by  refuting  facts  with  theories ;  but  a  fact  is  no  less  a  fact  when 
science  opposes." 

I  recognized  the  force  of  his  arguments,  and  cordially  grasped 
his  hand  in  indication  of  submission.  We  continued  our  journey, 
and  rapidly  traveled  downward  and  onward.  The  light  gradually 
increased  in  intensity,  until  at  length  the  cavern  near  about  us 
seemed  to  be  as  bright  as  diffused  daylight  could  have  made  it. 
There  was  apparently  no  central  point  of  radiation ;  the  light 
was  such  as  to  pervade  and  exist  in  the  surrounding  space,  some- 
what as  the  vapor  of  phosphorus  spreads  a  self-luminous  haze 
throughout  the  bubble  into  which  it  is  blown.  The  visual  agent 
surrounding  us  had  a  permanent,  self-existing  luminosity,  and 
was  a  pervading,  bright,  unreachable  essence  that,  without  an 
obvious  origin,  diffused  itself  equally  in  all  directions.  It 
reminded  me  of  the  form  of  light  that  in  previous  years  I 
had  seen  described  as  epipolic  dispersion,  and  as  I  refer  to  the 
matter  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  man  will  3'et  find  that  the  same 
cause  produces  both  phenomena.  I  was  informed  now  by  the 
sense  of  sight,  that  we  were  in  a  cavern  room  of  considerable 
size.  The  apartment  presented  somewhat  the  appearance  of  the 
usual  underground  caverns  that  I  had  seen  pictured  in  books,  and 
yet  w^as  different.     Stalactites,  stalagmites,  saline  incrustations, 


108 


KTIDORHPA. 


occurring  occasionally  reminded  me  of  travelers'  stories,  but 
these  objects  were  not  so  abundant  as  might  be  supposed.  Such 
accretions  or  deposits  of  saline  substances  as  I  noticed  were  also 
disappointing,  in  that,  instead  of  having  a  dazzling  brilliancv, 
like  frosted  snow  crystals,  they  were  of  a  uniform  gray  or  brown 
hue.  Indeed,  my  former  imaginative  mental  creations  regarding 
underground  caverns  were  dispelled  in  this  somber  stone  temple, 
for  even  the  floor  and  the  fragments  of  stone  that,  in  considerable 


"  SEATED  HIMSELF  ON  A  NATURAL  BENCH  OF  STONE." 

quantities,  strewed  the  floor,  were  of  the  usual  rock  formations 
of  upper  earth.  The  glittering  crystals  of  snowy  wdiite  or  rain- 
bow tints  (fairy  caverns)  pictured  by  travelers,  and  described  as 
inexpressibly  grand  and  beautiful  in  other  cavern  labyrinths, 
were  wanting  here,  and  I  saw  only  occasional  small  clusters  of 
quartz  crystals  that  were  other  than  of  a  diill  gray  color.  Finally, 
after  hours  or  perhaps  days  of  travel,  interspersed  with  restings, 
conversations,  and  arguments,  amid  which  I  could  form  no  idea 
of  the  flight  of  time,  my  companion  seated  himself  on  a  natural 
bench  of  stone,  and  directed  me  to  rest  likewise.  He  broke  the 
silence,  and  spoke  as  follows: 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

VITALIZED    DARKNESS. — THE    NARROWS    IN    SCIENCE. 

"  In  studying  any  branch  of  science  men  begin  and  end  with 
an  unknown.  The  chemist  accepts  as  data  such  conditions  of 
matter  as  he  finds  about  him,  and  connects  ponderable  matter 
with  the  displays  of  energy  that  have  impressed  his  senses, 
building  therefrom  a  span  of  theoretical  science,  but  he  can  not 
formulate  as  yet  an  explanation  regarding  the  origin  or  the  end 
of  either  mind,  matter,  or  energy.  The  piers  supporting  his 
fabric  stand  in  a  profound  invisible  gulf,  into  which  even  his 
imagination  can  not  look  to  form  a  theory  concerning  basic 
formations — corner-stones. 

"  The  geologist,  in  a  like  manner,  grasps  feebly  the  lessons 
left  in  the  superficial  fragments  of  earth  strata,  impressions  that 
remain  to  bear  imperfect  record  of  a  few  of  the  disturbances  that 
have  affected  the  earth's  crust,  and  he  endeavors  to  formulate  a 
stor>'  of  the  world's  life,  but  he  is  neither  able  to  antedate  the 
records  shown  by  the  meager  testimony  at  his  command,  scraps 
of  a  leaf  out  of  God's  great  book  of  history,  nor  to  anticipate 
coming  events.  The  birth,  as  well  as  the  death,  of  this  planet  is 
beyond  his  page. 

"  The  astronomer  directs  his  telescope  to  the  heavens,  records 
the  position  of  the  planets,  and  hopes  to  discover  the  influences 
worlds  exert  upon  one  another.  He  explores  space  to  obtain  data 
to  enable  him  to  delineate  a  map  of  the  visible  solar  universe, 
but  the  instruments  he  has  at  command  are  so  imperfect,  and 
mind  is  so  feeble  that,  like  mockery  seems  his  attempt  to  study 
behind  the  facts  connected  with  the  motions  and  conditions  of 
the  nearest  heavenly  bodies,  and  he  can  not  offer  an  explanation 
of  the  beginning  or  cessation  of  their  movements.  He  can 
neither  account  for  their  existence,  nor  foretell  their  end." 

"Are  you  not  mistaken?"  I  interrupted;  "does  not  the 
astronomer   foretell    eclipses,    and    calculate    the    orbits   of   the 

109 


110  ETIDORHPA. 

planets,   and  has  he   not   verified  predictions   concerning   their 
several  motions?" 

"  Yes ;  but  this  is  simply  a  study  of  passing  events.  The 
astronomer  is  no  more  capable  of  grasping  an  idea  that  reaches 
into  an  explanation  of  the  origin  of  motion,  than  the  chemist  or 
physicist,  from  exact  scientific  data,  can  account  for  the  creation 
of  matter.  Give  him  any  amount  of  material  at  rest,  and  he 
can  not  conceive  of  any  method  by  which  motion  can  disturb 
any  part  of  it,  unless  such  motion  be  mass  motion  communicated 
from  without,  or  molecular  motion,  already  existing  within.  He 
accounts  for  the  phases  of  present  motion  in  heavenly  bodies, 
not  for  the  primal  cause  of  the  actual  movements  or  intrinsic 
properties  they  possess.  He  can  neither  originate  a  theor}'  that 
will  permit  of  motion  creating  itself,  and  imparting  itself  to 
quiescent  matter,  nor  imagine  how  an  atom  of  quiescent  matter 
can  be  moved,  unless  motion  from  without  be  communicated 
thereto.  The  astronomer,  I  assert,  can  neither  from  any  data  at 
his  command  postulate  nor  prove  the  beginning  nor  the  end  of 
the  reverberating  motion  that  exists  in  his  solar  system,  which  is 
itself  the  fragment  of  a  system  that  is  circulating  and  revolving 
in  and  about  itself,  and  in  which,  since  the  birth  of  man,  the 
universe  he  knows  has  not  passed  the  first  milestone  in  the  road 
that  universe  is  traveling  in  space  immensity. 

"  The  mathematician  starts  a  line  from  an  imaginary  point 
that  he  informs  us  exists  theoretically  without  occupying  any 
space,  which  is  a  contradiction  of  terms  according  to  his  human 
acceptation  of  knowledge  derived  from  scientific  experiment,  if 
science  is  based  on  verified  facts.  He  assumes  that  straight  lines 
exist,  which  is  a  necessity  for  his  calculation ;  but  such  a  line  he 
has  never  made.  Even  the  beam  of  sunshine,  radiating  through 
a  clear  atmosphere  or  a  cloud  bank,  widens  and  contracts  again 
as  it  progresses  through  the  various  mediums  of  air  and  vapor 
currents,  and  if  it  is  ever  spreading  and  deflecting  can  it  be 
straight?  He  begins  his  study  in  the  unknown,  it  ends  with  the 
unknowable. 

"The  biologist  can  conceive  of  no  rational,  scientific  begin- 
ning to  life  of  plant  or  animal,  and  men  of  science  must  admit 
the  fact.  Whenever  we  turn  our  attention  to  nature's  laws  and 
nature's  substance,  we  find  man  surrounded  b)'  the  infinit\'  that 


VITALIZED  DARKNESS.  IH 

obscures  the  origin  and  covers  the  end.  But  perseverance,  study 
of  nature's  forces,  and  comparison  of  the  past  with  the  present, 
will  yet  clarify  human  knowledge  and  make  plain  much  of  this 
seemingly  mysterious,  but  never  will  man  reach  the  beginning 
or  the  end.  The  course  of  human  education,  to  this  day,  has 
been  mostly  materialistic,  although,  together  with  the  study  of 
matter,  there  has  been  more  or  less  attention  given  to  its  moving 
spirit.  Newton  was  the  dividing  light  in  scientific  thought ;  he 
stepped  between  the  reasonings  of  the  past  and  the  provings  of 
the  present,  and  introduced  problems  that  gave  birth  to  a  new 
scientific  tendency,  a  change  from  the  study  of  matter  from  the 
material  side  to  that  of  force  and  matter,  but  his  thought  has 
since  been  carried  out  in  a  mode  too  realistic  by  far.  The  study 
of  material  bodies  has  given  way,  it  is  true,  in  a  few  cases  to 
the  study  of  the  spirit  of  matter,  and  evolution  is  beginning  to 
teach  men  that  matter  is  crude.  As  a  result,  thought  will  in  its 
sequence  yet  show  that  modifications  of  energy  expression  are 
paramount.  This  work  is  not  lost,  however,  for  the  consideration 
of  the  nature  of  sensible  material,  is  preliminary  and  necessary 
to  progression  (as  the  life  of  the  savage  prepares  the  way  for 
that  of  the  cultivated  student),  and  is  a  meager  and  primitive 
child's  effort,  compared  with  the  richness  of  the  study  in  imseen 
energy  expressions  that  are  linked  with  matter,  of  which  men 
will  yet  learn." 

"I  comprehend  some  of  this,"  I  replied;  "but  I  am  neither 
prepared  to  assent  to  nor  dissent  from  your  conclusions,  and  my 
mind  is  not  clear  as  to  whether  your  logic  is  good  or  bad.  I  am 
more  ready  to  speak  plainly  about  my  own  peculiar  situation 
than  to  become  absorbed  in  abstruse  arguments  in  science,  and  I 
marvel  more  at  the  soft  light  that  is  here  surrounding  us  than 
at  the  metaphysical  reasoning  in  which  you  indulge." 

"  The  child  ignorant  of  letters  wonders  at  the  resources  of 
those  who  can  spell  and  read,  and,  in  like  manner,  many  obscure 
natural  phenomena  are  marvelous  to  man  only  because  of  his 
ignorance.  You  do  not  comprehend  the  fact  that  sunlight  is  sim- 
ply a  matter-bred  expression,  an  outburst  of  interrupted  energy, 
and  that  the  modification  this  energy  undergoes  makes  it  visible 
or  sensible  to  man.  What,  think  you,  becomes  of  the  flood  of 
light  energy  that  unceasingly  flows  from  the  sun  ?     For  ages,  for 


112  ETIDORHPA. 

an  eternity,  it  has  bathed  this  earth  and  seemingly  streamed 
into  space,  and  space  it  wonld  seem  must  have  long  since  have 
been  filled  with  it,  if,  as  men  believe,  space  contains  energy  of 
any  description.  ]\Ian  may  say  the  earth  casts  the  amount  inter- 
cepted by  it  back  into  space,  and  yet  does  not  your  science  teach 
that  the  great  bulk  of  the  earth  is  an  absorber,  and  a  poor 
radiator  of  light  and  heat?  What  think  you,  I  repeat,  becomes 
of  the  torrent  of  light  and  heat  and  other  forces  that  radiate 
from  the  sun,  the  flood  that  strikes  the  earth?  It  disappears^ 
and,  in  the  economy  of  nature,  is  not  replaced  by  any  known 
force  or  any  known  motion  of  matter.  Think  you  that  earth 
substance  really  presents  an  obstacle  to  the  passage  of  the  sun's 
energy?  Is  it  not  probable  that  most  of  this  light  producing 
essence,  as  a  subtle  fluid,  passes  through  the  surface  of  the  earth 
and  into  its  interior,  as  light  does  through  space,  and  returns 
thence  to  the  sun  again,  in  a  condition  not  discernible  by  man?" 
He  grasped  my  arm  and  squeezed  it  as  though  to  emphasize 
the  words  to  follow.  "  You  have  used  the  term  sunshine  freely  ; 
tell  me  what  is  sunshine?  Ah!  you  do  not  reply;  well,  what 
evidence  have  you  to  show  that  sunshine  (heat  and  light)  is  not 
earth-bred,  a  condition  that  exists  locally  only,  the  result  of  con- 
tact between  matter  and  some  unknown  force  expression  ?  What 
reason  have  you  for  accepting  that,  to  other  forms  unknown  and 
yet  transparent  to  this  energy,  your  sunshine  may  not  be  as 
intangible  as  the  ether  of  space  is  to  man  ?  What  reason  have 
you  to  believe  that  a  force  torrent  is  not  circulating  to  and  from 
the  sun  and  earth,  inappreciable  to  man,  excepting  the  mere 
trace  of  this  force  which,  modified  by  contact  action  with  matter 
appears  as  heat,  light,  and  other  force  expressions?  How  can 
I,  if  this  is  true,  in  consideration  of  your  ignorance,  enter  into 
details  explanatory  of  the  action  that  takes  place  between  matter 
and  a  portion  of  this  force,  whereby  in  the  earth,  first  at  the 
surface,  darkness  is  produced,  and  then  deeper  down  an  earth 
light  that  man  can  perceive  by  the  sense  of  sight,  as  you  now 
realize?  I  will  only  say  that  this  luminous  appearance  about 
us  is  produced  by  a  natural  law,  whereby  the  flood  of  energy, 
invisible  to  man,  a  something  clothed  now  under  the  name  of 
darkness,  after  streaming  into  the  crust  substance  of  the  earth, 
is  at  this  depth,  revivified,  and  then  is  made  apparent  to  mortal 


VITAUZED  DARKNESS.  113 

eye,  to  be  modified  attain  as  it  emerges  from  the  opposite  earth 
crust,  but  uot  aunihihited.  For  my  vision,  however,  this  central 
light  is  not  a  necessity ;  my  physical  and  mental  development 
is  such  that  the  energy  of  darkness  is  communicable ;  I  can 
respond  to  its  touches  on  my  nerves,  and  hence  I  can  guide 
you  in  this  dark  cavern.     I  am  all  eye." 

"Ah!"  I  exclaimed,  "that  reminds  me  of  a  remark  made  by 
my  former  guide  who,  referring  to  the  instinct  of  animals,  spoke 
of  that  as  a  natural  power  undeveloped  in  man.  Is  it  true  that 
by  mental  cultivation  a  new  sense  can  be  evolved  whereby 
darkness  may  become  as  light?" 

"Yes;  that  which  you  call  light  is  a  form  of  sensible  energy 
to  which  the  faculties  of  animals  who  live  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth  have  become  adapted,  through  their  organs  of  sight.  The 
sun's  energy  is  modified  when  it  strikes  the  surface  of  the  earth  ; 
part  is  reflected,  but  most  of  it  passes  onward  into  the  earth's 
substance,  in  an  altered  or  disturbed  condition.  Animal  organ- 
isms within  the  earth  must  possess  a  peculiar  development  to 
utilize  it  under  its  new  form,  but  such  a  sense  is  really  possessed 
in  a  degree  by  some  creatures  known  to  men.  There  is  con- 
sciousness behind  consciousness  ;  there  are  grades  and  depths  of 
consciousness.  Earth  worms,  and  some  fishes  and  reptiles  in 
underground  streams  (lower  organizations,  men  call  them)  do  not 
use  the  organ  of  sight,  but  recognize  objects,  seek  their  food,  and 
flee  from  their  enemies." 

"They  have  no  eyes,"  I  exclaimed,  forgetting  that  I  spoke  to 
an  eyeless  being ;  "  how  can  they  see  ?" 

"  You  should  reflect  that  man  can  not  offer  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  fact  that  he  can  see  with  his  eyes.  In  one 
respect,  these  so-called  lower  creatures  are  higher  in  the  scale  of 
life  than  man  is,  for  they  see  (appreciate)  without  eyes.  The 
surfaces  of  their  bodies  really  are  sources  of  perception,  and 
seats  of  consciousness.  Man  must  yet  learn  to  see  with  his 
skin,  taste  with  his  fingers,  and  hear  with  the  surface  of  his 
body.  The  dissected  nerve,  or  the  pupil  of  man's  eye,  offers  to 
the  physiologist  no  explanation  of  its  intrinsic  power.  Is  not 
man  unfortunate  in  having  to  risk  so  much  on  so  frail  an  organ? 
The  physiologist  can  not  tell  wdiy  or  how  the  nerve  of  the 
tongue  can  distinguish  between  bitter  and  sweet,  or  convey  any 


114  ETIDORIIl'A. 

impression  of  taste,  or  why  the  nerve  of  the  ear  comninnicates 
sound,  or  the  nerve  of  the  eye  communicates  the  impression  of 
sight.  There  is  an  impassable  barrier  behind  all  forms  of  nerve 
impressions,  that  neither  the  microscope  nor  other  methods  of 
investigation  can  help  the  reasoning  senses  of  man  to  remove. 
The  void  that  separates  the  pulp  of  the  material  nerve  from 
consciousness  is  broader  than  the  solar  universe,  for  even  from 
the  most  distant  known  star  we  can  imagine  the  never-endine 
flight  of  a  ray  of  light,  that  has  once  started  on  its  travels  into 
space.  Can  any  man  outline  the  bridge  that  connects  the  intellect 
with  nerv'e  or  brain,  mind,  or  with  any  form  of  matter?  The  fact 
that  the  surface  of  the  bodies  of  some  animals  is  capable  of 
performing  the  same  functions  for  these  animals  that  the  eye  of 
man  performs  for  him,  is  not  more  mysterious  than  is  the  func- 
tion of  that  eye  itself.  The  term  darkness  is  an  expression  used 
to  denote  the  fact  that  to  the  brain  which  governs  the  eye  of 
man,  what  man  calls  the  abse;ice  of  light,  is  unrecognizable. 
If  men  were  more  magnanimous  and  less  egotistical,  they  would 
open  their  minds  to  the  fact  that  some  animals  really  possess 
certain  senses  that  are  better  developed  than  they  are  in  man. 
The  teachers  of  men  too  often  tell  the  little  they  know  and 
neglect  the  great  unseen.  The  cat  tribe,  some  night  birds,  and 
many  reptiles  can  see  better  in  darkness  than  in  daylight.  Let 
man  compare  with  the  nerve  expanse  of  his  own  eye  that  of  the 
highly  developed  eye  of  any  such  creature,  and  he  will  under- 
stand that  the  difference  is  one  of  brain  or  intellect,  and  not 
altogether  one  of  optical  vision  surface.  When  men  are  able  to 
explain  how  light  can  affect  the  nerves  of  their  own  eyes  and 
produce  such  an  effect  on  distant  brain  tissues  as  to  bring  to  his 
senses  objects  that  he  is  not  touching,  he  may  be  able  to  explain 
how  the  energy  in  darkness  can  affect  the  nerve  of  the  eye  in  the 
owl  and  impress  vision  on  the  brain  of  that  creature.  Should 
not  man's  inferior  sense  of  light  lead  him  to  question  if,  instead 
of  deficient  visual  power,  there  be  not  a  deficiency  of  the  brain 
capacity  of  man?  Instead  of  accepting  that  the  eye  of  man 
is  incapable  of  receiving  the  impression  of  night  energy^,  and 
making  no  endeavor  to  improve  himself  in  the  direction  of  his 
imperfection,  man  should  reflect  whether  or  not  his  brain  may,  by 
proper  cultivation  or  artificial  stimulus,  be  yet  developed  so  as 


VITALIZED  DARKNESS.  115 

to  receive  yet  deeper  nerve  impressions,  thereby  changing  dark- 
ness into  daylight.  Until  man  can  explain  the  modns  operandi 
of  the  senses  he  now  possesses,  he  can  not  consistently  question 
the  existence  of  a  different  sight  power  in  other  beings,  and 
unquestioned  existing  conditions  should  lead  him  to  hope  for  a 
yet  higher  development  in  himself." 

"This  dissertation  is  interesting,  very,"  I  said.  "Although 
inclined  toward  agnosticism,  my  ideas  of  a  possible  future  in 
consciousness  that  lies  before  mankind  are  broadened.  I  there- 
fore accept  your  reasoning,  perhaps  because  I  can  not  refute  it, 
neither  do  I  wish  to  do  so.  And  now  I  ask  again,  can  not  you 
explain  to  me  how  darkness,  as  deep  as  that  of  midnight,  has 
"been  revivified  so  as  to  bring  this  great  cavern  to  my  view?" 

"That  maybe  made  plain  at  a  future  time,"  he  answered ; 
"let  us  proceed  with  our  journey." 

We  passed  through  a  dry,  well  ventilated  apartment.  Sta- 
lactite formations  still  existed,  indicative  of  former  periods  of 
water  drippings,  but  as  we  journeyed  onward  I  saw  no  evi- 
dence of  present  percolations,  and  the  developing  and  erosive 
agencies  that  had  worked  in  ages  past  must  long  ago  have 
been  suspended.  The  floor  was  of  solid  stone,  entirely  free  from 
loose  earth  and  fallen  rocky  fragments.  It  was  smooth  upon 
the  surface,  but  generally  disposed  in  gentle  undulations.  The 
peculiar,  soft,  radiant  light  to  which  my  guide  referred  as  "  vital- 
ized darkness"  or  "revivified  sunshine,"  pervaded  all  the  space 
about  me,  but  I  could  not  by  its  agency  distinguish  the  sides 
of  the  vast  cavern.  The  brightness  was  of  a  species  that 
while  it  brought  into  distinctness  objects  that  were  near  at 
hand,  lost  its  unfolding  power  or  vigor  a  short  distance  beyond. 
I  would  compare  the  effect  to  that  of  a  bright  light  shining 
through  a  dense  fog,  were  it  not  that  the  medium  about  us  was 
transparent — not  milky.  The  light  shrunk  into  nothingness. 
It  passed  from  existence  behind  and  about  me  as  if  it  were 
annihilated,  without  wasting  away  in  the  opalescent  appearance 
once  familiar  as  that  of  a  spreading  fog.  Moreover,  it  seemed 
to  detail  such  objects  as  were  within  the  compass  of  a  certain 
area  close  about  me,  but  to  lose  in  intensity  beyond.  The  buttons 
on  my  coat  appeared  as  distinct  as  they  ever  did  when  I  stood 
in  the  sunlight,  and  fully  one-half  larger  than  I  formerly  knew 


116  ETIDORHPA. 

tliciii  to  be.  The  corrugations  on  the  pahns  of  my  hands  stood 
out  in  bold  serpentine  relief  that  I  observed  clearly  when  I  held 
my  hands  near  my  eye,  ni\-  fingers  appeared  clunisx-,  and  all 
parts  of  my  person  were  magnified  in  proportion.  The  region 
at  the  limits  of  my  range  of  perception  reminded  me  of  nothing- 
ness, but  not  of  darkness.  A  circle  of  obliteration  defined  the 
border  of  the  luminous  belt  which  advanced  as  we  proceeded, 
and  closed  in  behind  us.  This  line,  or  rather  zone  of  demarkation. 
that  separated  the  seen  from  the  unseen,  appeared  to  be  about 
two  hundred  feet  away,  but  it  might  have  been  more  or  less,  as  I 
had  no  method  of  measuring  distances. 


I    WAS    IX    A    FOREST   OF   COLOSSAL    FUNGI." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    FUNGUS   FOREST, — ENCHANTMENT. 

Along  the  chamber  through  which  we  now  passed  I  saw  by 
the  mellow  light  great  pillars,  capped  with  umbrella-like  covers, 
some  of  them  reminding  me  of  the  common  toadstool  of  upper 
earth,  on  a  magnificent  scale.  Instead,  however,  of  the  gray  or 
somber  shades  to  which  I  had  been  accustomed,  these  objects 
were  of  various  hues  and  combined  the  brilliancy  of  the  primary 
prismatic  colors,  with  the  purity  of  clean  snow.  Now  they  would 
stand  solitary,  like  gigantic  sentinels;  again  they  would  be 
arranged  in  rows,  the  alignment  as  true  as  if  established  by 
the  hair  of  a  transit,  forming  columnar  avenues,  and  in  other 
situations  they  were  wedged  together  so  as  to  produce  masses, 
acres  in  extent,  in  which  the  stems  became  hexagonal  by  com- 
pression. The  columnar  stems,  larger  than  my  body,  were  often 
spiral;  again  they  were  marked  with  diamond-shaped  figures,  or 
other  regular  geometrical  forms  in  relief,  beautifully  exact,  drawn 
as  by  a  master's  hand  in  rich  and  delicately  blended  colors,  on 
pillars  of  pure  alabaster.  Not  a  few  of  the  stems  showed  deep 
crimson,  blue,  or  green,  together  with  other  rich  colors  combined ; 
over  which,  as  delicate  as  the  rarest  of  lace,  would  be  thrown,  in 
white,  an  enamel-like  intricate  tracery,  far  surpassing  in  beauty 
of  execution  the  most  exquisite  needle-work  I  had  ever  seen. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  I  was  in  a  forest  of  colossal  fungi, 
the  species  of  which  are  more  numerous  than  those  of  upper 
earth  cryptomatic  vegetation.  The  expanded  heads  of  these 
great  thallogens  were  as  varied  as  the  stems  I  have  descilbed, 
and  more  so.  Far  above  our  path  they  spread  like  beautiful 
umbrellas,  decorated  as  if  by  masters  from  whom  the  great 
painters  of  upper  earth  might  humbly  learn  the  art  of  mixing 
colors.  Their  under  surfaces  were  of  many  different  designs, 
and   were   of    as   many   shapes   as   it   is  conceivable  could   be 

made  of  combinations  of  the  circle  and  hyperbola.     Statelv  and 

n9 


120  ETIDORIIPA. 

picturesque,  sileut  and  immovable  as  the  sphinx,  they  studded 
the  great  cavern  singly  or  in  groups,  reminding  me  of  a  grown 
child's  wild  imagination  of  fairy  land,  I  stopped  beside  a  group 
that  was  of  unusual  conspicuitN'  and  gazed  in  admiration  on  the 
huge  and  yet  graceful,  beautiful  spectacle.  I  placed  my  hand 
on  the  stem  of  one  plant,  and  found  it  soft  and  impressible ; 
but  instead  of  being  moist,  cold,  and  clammy  as  the  repulsive 
toadstool  of  upper  earth,  I  discovered,  to  my  surprise,  that  it  was 
pleasantly  warm,  and  soft  as  velvet. 

"  Smell  your  hand,"  said  my  guide. 

I  did  so,  and  breathed  in  an  aroma  like  that  of  fresh  strawber- 
ries. My  guide  observed  (I  had  learned  to  judge  of  his  emotions 
by  his  facial  expressions)  my  surprised  countenance  with  indif- 
ference. 

"  Try  the  next  one,"  he  said. 

This  being  of  a  different  species,  when  rubbed  by  ni\-  hand 
exhaled  the  odor  of  the  pineapple. 

"  Extraordinary,"  I  mused. 

"  Not  at  all.  Should  productions  of  surface  earth  have  a 
monopoly  of  nature's  methods,  all  the  flavors,  all  the  perfumes  ? 
You  may  with  equal  consistency  express  astonishment  at  the 
odors  of  the  fruits  of  upper  earth  if  you  do  so  at  the  fragrance  of 
these  vegetables,  for  they  are  also  created  of  odorless  elements." 

"  But  toadstools  are  foul  structures  of  low  organization.* 
They  are  neither  animals  nor  true  vegetables,  but  occupv  a 
station  below  that  of  plants  proper,"  I  said. 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  this  order  of  vegetation  under  the 
most  unfavorable  conditions ;  out  of  their  native  elements  these 
plants  degenerate  and  become  then  abnormal,  often  evolving 
into  the  poisonous  earth  fungi  known  to  your  woods  and  fields. 
Here  they  grow  to  perfection.  This  is  their  chosen  habitat. 
They  absorb  from  a  pure  atmosphere  the  combined  foods  of 
plants  and  animals,  and  during  their  existence  meet  no  scorching 
sunrise.  They  flourish  in  a  region  of  perfect  tranquillity,  and 
without  a  tremor,  without  experiencing*  the  change  of  a  fraction 
of   a   degree    in    temperature,   exist    for  ages.      Many  of   these 


'■'■'■  The  fungus  Polyporus  gravcolens  was  ne.erlected  by  the  giiide.  This  fungus  exhales  a 
delicate  odor,  and  is  used  in  Kentucky  to  perfume  a  room.  Being  quite  large,  it  is  employed 
to  hold  a  door  open,  thus  being  useful  as  well  as  fragrant.— J.  U.  1,. 


THE  FUNGUS  FOREST.  121 

specimens  are  probably  thousands  of  years  old,  and  are  still 
growing ;  why  slionld  they  ever  die  ?  They  have  never  been  dis- 
tnrbed  by  a  breath  of  moving  air,  and,  balanced  exactly  on  their 
succnlent,  pedestal-like  stems,  snrronnded  by  an  atmosphere  of 
dead  nitrogen,  vapor,  and  other  gases,  with  their  roots  imbedded 
in  carbonates  and  minerals,  they  have  food  at  command,  nutrition 
inexhaustible." 

"  Still  I  do  not  see  why  they  grow  to  such  mammoth 
proportions." 

"  Plants  adapt  themselves  to  surrounding  conditions,"  he 
remarked.  "  The  oak  tree  in  its  proper  latitude  is  tall  and 
stately ;  trace  it  toward  the  Arctic  circle,  and  it  becomes 
knotted,  gnarled,  rheumatic,  and  dwindles  to  a  shrub.  The 
castor  plant  in  the  tropics  is  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  height,  in 
the  temperate  zone  it  is  an  herbaceous  plant,  farther  north  it 
has  no  existence.  Indian  corn  in  Kentucky  is  luxuriant,  tall, 
and  graceful,  and  each  stalk  is  supplied  with  roots  to  the  second 
and  third  joint,  while  in  the  northland  it  scarcely  reaches  to  the 
shoulder  of  a  man,  and,  in  order  to  escape  the  early  northern 
frost,  arrives  at  maturity  before  the  more  southern  variety 
begins  to  tassel.  The  common  jimson  weed  (datura  stramo- 
nium) planted  in  early  spring,  in  rich  soil,  grows  luxuriantly, 
covers  a  broad  expanse  and  bears  an  abundance  of  fruit ;  planted 
in  midsummer  it  blossoms  when  but  a  few  inches  in  height,  and 
between  two  terminal  leaves  hastens  to  produce  a  single  capsule 
on  the  apex  of  the  short  stem,  in  order  to  ripen  its  seed  before 
the  frost  appears.  These  and  other  familiar  examples  might 
be  cited  concerning  the  difference  some  species  of  vegetation  of 
your  former  lands  undergo  under  climatic  conditions  less  marked 
than  between  those  that  govern  the  growth  of  fungi  here  and  on 
surface  earth.  Such  specimens  of  fungi  as  grow  in  your  former 
home  have  escaped  from  these  underground  regions,  and  are  as 
much  out  of  place  as  are  the  tropical  plants  transplanted  to  the 
edge  of  eternal  snow.  Indeed,  more  so,  for  on  the  earth  the 
ordinary  fungus,  as  a  rule,  germinates  after  sunset,  and  often 
dies  w^hen  the  sun  rises,  while  here  they  may  grow  in  peace 
eternally.  These  meandering  caverns  comprise  thousands  of 
miles  of  surface  covered  by  these  growths  which  shall  yet  fulfill 
a  grand  purpose  in  the  economy  of  nature,  for  they  are  destined 


122  ETIDORHPA. 

to  feed  tramping  nuiltitiides  when  the  day  appears  in  which  the 
nations  of  men  will  desert  the  snrface  of  the  earth  and  pass 
as  a  single  people  through  these  caverns  on  their  way  to  the 
immaculate  existence  to  be  found  in  the  inner  sphere." 

"  I  can  not  disprove  your  statement,"  I  again  repeated ; 
"  neither  do  I  accept  it.  However,  it  still  seems  to  me  unnatural 
to  find  such  delicious  flavors  and  delicate  odors  connected  with 
objects  associated  in  memory  with  things  insipid,  or  so  disa- 
greeable as  toadstools  and  the  rank  forest  fungi  which  I  abhorred 
on  earth." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    FOOD    OF    MAN. 

"This  leads  me  to  remark,"  answered  tlie  eyeless  seer,  "  that 
you  speak  without  due  consideration  of  previous  experience. 
You  are,  or  should  be,  aware  of  other  and  as  marked  differences 
in  food  products  of  upper  earth,  induced  by  climate,  soil  and 
cultivation.  The  potato  which,  next  to  wheat,  rice,  or  corn,  you 
know  supplies  nations  of  men  with  starchy  food,  originated  as 
a  wild  weed  in  South  America  and  Mexico,  where  it  yet  exists 
as  a  small,  watery,  marble-like  tuber,  and  its  nearest  kindred, 
botanically,  is  still  poisonous.  The  luscious  apple  reached  its 
present  excellence  by  slow  stages  from  knotty,  wild,  astringent 
fruit,  to  which  it  again  returns  when  escaped  from  cultivation.' 
The  cucumber  is  a  near  cousin  of  the  griping,  medicinal  cathartic 
bitter-apple,  or  colocynth,  and  occasionally  partakes  yet  of  the 
properties  that  result  from  that  unfortunate  alliance,  as  too  often 
exemplified  to  persons  who  do  not  peel  it  deep  enough  to  remove 
the  bitter,  cathartic  principle  that  exists  near  the  surface. 
Oranges,  in  their  wild  condition,  are  bitter,  and  are  used  prin- 
cipallv  as  medicinal  agents.  Asparagus  was  once  a  weed,  native 
to  the  salty  edges  of  the  sea,  and  as  this  weed  has  become  a 
food,  so  it  is  possible  for  other  wild  weeds  yet  to  do.  Buckwheat 
is  a  weed  proper,  and  not  a  cereal,  and  birds  have  learned  that 
the  seeds  of  many  other  weeds  are  even  preferable  to  wheat.  The 
wild  parsnip  is  a  poison,  and  the  parsnip  of  cultivation  relapses 
quickly  into  its  natural  condition  if  allowed  to  escape  and  roam 
again.  The  root  of  the  tapioca  plant  contains  a  volatile  poison, 
and  is  deadly ;  but  when  that  same  root  is  properly  prepared,  it 
becomes  the  wholesome  food,  tapioca.  The  nut  of  the  African 
anacardium  (cachew  nut)  contains  a  nourishing  kernel  that  is 
eaten  as  food  by  the  natives,  and  yet  a  drop  of  the  juice  of  the 
oilv  shell  placed  on  the  skin  will  blister  and  produce  terrible 
inflammations ;  only  those  expert  in  the  removal  of  the  kernel 

123 


124  KTIDORMPA. 

dare  partake  of  the  food.  The  berry  of  the  berberis  vulgaris  is 
a  pleasant  acid  fruit ;  the  boujj^h  that  bears  it  is  intensely  bitter. 
Such  examples  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely,  but  I  have  cited 
enough  to  illustrate  the  fact  that  neither  the  difference  in  size 
and  structure  of  the  species  in  the  mushroom  forest  through 
which  we  are  passing,  nor  the  conditions  of  these  bodies,  as 
compared  with  those  you  formerly  knew,  need  excite  your  aston- 
ishment. Cultivate  a  potato  in  your  former  home  so  that  the 
growing  tuber  is  exposed  to  sunshine,  and  it  becomes  green 
and  acrid,  and  strongly  virulent.  Cultivate  the  spores  of  the 
intra-earth  fungi  about  us,  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  although 
now  all  parts  of  the  plants  are  edible,  the  species  \xi\\  degenerate, 
and  may  even  become  poisonous.  They  lose  their  flavor  under 
such  unfavorable  conditions,  and  although  some  species  still 
retain  vitality  enough  to  resist  poisonous  degeneration,  they 
dwindle  in  size,  and  adapt  themselves  to  new  and  unnatural 
conditions.  They  have  all  degenerated.  Here  they  live  on 
water,  pure  nitrogen  and  its  modifications,  grasping  with  their 
roots  the  carbon  of  the  disintegrated  limestone,  affiliating  these 
substances,  and  evolving  from  these  bodies  rich  and  delicate 
flavors,  far  superior  to  the  flavor  of  earth  surface  foods.  On  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  after  they  become  abnormal,  they  live  only 
on  dead  and  devitalized  organic  matter,  having  lost  the  power  of 
assimilating  elementary  matter.  They  then  partake  of  the  nature 
of  animals,  breathe  oxygen  and  exhale  carbonic  acid,  as  animals 
do,  being  the  reverse  of  other  plant  existences.  Here  they  breathe 
oxygen,  nitrogen,  and  the  vapor  of  water;  but  exhale  some  of 
the  carbon  in  combination  with  hydrogen,  thus  evolving  these 
delicate  ethereal  essences  instead  of  the  poisonous  gas,  carbonic 
acid.  Tlieir  substance  is  here  made  up  of  all  the  elements  neces- 
sary for  the  support  of  animal  life ;  nitrogen  to  make  muscle, 
carbon  and  hydrogen  for  fat,  lime  for  bone.  This  fungoid  forest 
could  feed  a  multitude.  It  is  probable  that  in  the  time  to  come 
when  man  deserts  the  bleak  earth  surface,  as  he  will  some  day 
be  forced  to  do,  as  has  been  the  case  in  frozen  planets  that  are 
not  now  inhabited  on  the  outer  crust ;  nations  will  march  through 
these  spaces  on  their  way  from  the  dreary  outside  earth  to  the 
delights  of  the  salubrious  inner  sphere.  Here  then,  when  that 
day  of  necessity  appears,  as  it  surely  will  come  under  inflexible 


THE  FOOD  OF  MAN.  125 

climatic  changes  that  will  control  the  destiny  of  outer  earth  life, 
these  constantly  increasing  stores  adapted  to  nourish  humanity, 
will  be  found  accumulated  and  ready  for  food.  You  have  already 
eaten  of  them,  for  the  variety  of  food  with  which  I  supplied  you 
has  been  selected  from  different  portions  of  these  nourishing 
products  which,  flavored  and  salted,  ready  for  use  as  food,  stand 
intermediate  between  animal  and  vegetable,  supplying  the  place 
of  both." 

My  instructor  placed  both  hands  on  my  shoulders,  and  in 
silence  I  stood  gazing  intently  into  his  face.  Then,  in  a  smooth, 
captivating,  entrancing  manner,  he  continued : 

"  Can  you  not  see  that  food  is  not  matter?  The  material  part 
of  bread  is  carbon,  water,  gas,  and  earth ;  the  material  part  of 
fat  is  charcoal  and  gas ;  the  material  part  of  flesh  is  water  and 
gas ;  the  material  part  of  fruits  is  mostly  water  with  a  little 
charcoal  and  gas.''~  The  material  constituents  of  all  foods  are 
plentiful,  they  abound  everywhere,  and  yet  amid  the  unlimited, 
unorganized  materials  that  go  to  form  foods  man  would  starve. 

"  Give  a  healthy  man  a  diet  of  charcoal,  water,  lime  salts, 
and  air ;  say  to  him,  '  Bread  contains  no  other  substance,  here 
is  bread,  the  material  food  of  man,  live  on  this  food,'  and  yet 
the  man,  if  he  eat  of  these,  will  die  with  his  stomach  distended. 
So  with  all  other  foods ;  give  man  the  unorganized  materialistic 
constituents  of  food  in  unlimited  amounts,  and  starvation  results. 
No!  matter  is  not  food,  but  a  carrier  of  food." 
"What  is  food?" 

"  Sunshine.  The  grain  of  wheat  is  a  food  by  virtue  of  the 
sunshine  fixed  within  it.  The  flesh  of  animals,  the  food  of  living 
creatures,  are  simply  carriers  of  sunshine  energy.  Break  out 
the  sunshine  and  you  destroy  the  food,  although  the  material 
remains.  The  growing  plant  locks  the  sunshine  in  its  cells,  and 
the  living  animal  takes  it  out  again.  Hence  it  is  that  after  the 
sunshine  of  any  food  is  liberated  during  the  metamorphosis  of 
the  tissues  of  an  animal  although  the  material  part  of  the  food 
remains,  it  is  no  longer  a  food,  but  becomes  a  poison,  and  then, 
if  it  is  not  promptly  eliminated  from  the  animal,  it  will  destroy 


*  By  the  term  gas,  it  is  evident  that  hydrogen  and  nitrogen  were  designated,  and  yet,  since 
the  instructor  insists  that  other  gases  form  part  of  the  atmosphere,  so  he  may  consistently 
imply  that  unknown  gases  are  parts  of  food. — J.  U.  ly. 


126  RTIDORHPA. 

the  life  of  tlie  animal.  This  material  becomes  then  injurious, 
but  it  is  still  material. 

"The  fanner  plants  a  seed  in  the  soil,  the  sunshine  sprouts 
it,  nourishes  the  growing  plant,  and  during  the  season  locks 
itself  to  and  within  its  tissues,  binding  the  otherwise  dead 
materials  of  that  tissue  together  into  an  organized  structure. 
Animals  eat  these  structures,  break  them  from  higher  to  lower 
compounds,  and  in  doing  so  live  on  the  stored  up  sunshine  and 
then  excrete  the  worthless  material  side  of  the  food.  The  farmer 
spreads  these  excluded  substances  over  the  earth  again  to  once 
more  take  up  the  sunshine  in  the  coming  plant  organization,  but 
not  until  it  does  once  more  lock  in  its  cells  the  energy  of  sunshine 
can  it  be  a  food  for  that  animal.'' 

"Is  manure  a  food?"  he  abruptly  asked. 

"No." 

"Is  not  manure  matter?" 

"Yes." 

"  May  it  not  become  a  food  again,  as  the  part  of  another 
plant,  when  another  season  passes?" 

"Yes." 

"  In  what  else  than  energy  (sunshine)  does  it  differ  from 
food?" 

"  Water  is  a  necessity,"  I  said. 

"  And  locked  in  each  molecule  of  water  there  is  a  mine  of 
sunshine.  Liberate  suddenly  the  sun  energy  from  the  gases 
of  the  ocean  held  in  subjection  thereby,  and  the  earth  would 
disappear  in  an  explosion  that  would  reverberate  throughout  the 
universe.  The  water  that  you  truly  claim  to  be  necessar}-  to 
the  life  of  man,  is  itself  water  by  the  grace  of  this  same  sun,  for 
without  its  heat  water  would  be  ice,  dry  as  dust.  'T  is  the  sun 
that  gives  life  and  motion  to  creatures  animate  and  substances 
inanimate ;  he  who  doubts  distnists  his  Creator.  Food  and  drink 
are  only  carriers  of  bits  of  assimilable  sunshine.  When  the  fire 
worshipers  kneeled  to  their  god,  the  sun,  they  worshiped  the  great 
food  reservoir  of  man.  When  they  drew  the  quivering  entrails 
from  the  body  of  a  sacrificed  victim  they  gave  back  to  their  God 
a  spark  of  sunshine — it  was  due  sooner  or  later.  They  builded 
well  in  thus  recognizing  the  source  of  all  life,  and  yet  they  acted 
badly,  for  their  God  asked  no  premature  sacrifice,  the  inevitable 


THE  FOOD  OF  MAN.  127 

must  soon  occur,  and  as  all  organic  life  comes  from  that  Sun- 
God,  so  back  to  that  Creator  the  sun-spark  must  fl)'." 

*'  But  they  are  heathen ;  there  is  a  God  beyond  their  narrow 
conception  of  God." 

"  As  there  is  also  a  God  in  the  Beyond,  past  your  idea  of  God. 
Perhaps  to  beings  of  higher  mentalities,  we  may  be  heathen; 
but  even  if  this  is  so,  duty  demands  that  we  revere  the  God 
within  our  intellectual  sphere.  Let  us  not  digress  further ;  the 
subject  now  is  food,  not  the  Supreme  Creator,  and  I  say  to  you 
the  food  of  man  and  the  organic  life  of  man  is  sunshine." 

He  ceased,  and  I  reflected  upon  his  words.  All  he  had  said 
seemed  so  consistent  that  I  could  not  deny  its  plausibility,  and 
yet  it  still  appeared  altogether  unlikely  as  viewed  in  the  light  of 
my  previous  earth  knowledge.  I  did  not  quite  comprehend  all 
the  semi-scientific  expressions,  but  was  at  least  certain  that  I 
could  neither  disprove  nor  verify  his  propositions.  My  thoughts 
wandered  aimlessly,  and  I  found  myself  questioning  whether 
man  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  live  contentedly  in  situations 
such  as  I  was  now  passing  through.  In  company  with  my 
learned  and  philosophical  but  fantastically  created  guardian  and 
monitor,   I   moved  on. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THK    CRY    FROM    A    DISTANCK. — I    REBEL    AGAINST    COXTINUIXG 

THK    jorRXKV. 

As  we  paced  along,  meditating,  I  became  more  sensibly 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  our  progress  was  down  a  rapid 
declination.  The  saline  incrustations,  fungi  and  stalagmites, 
rapidly  changed  in  appearance,  an  endless  variety  of  stony 
figures  and  vegetable  cryptogams  recurring  successively  before 
my  eyes.  They  bore  the  shape  of  trees,  shrubs,  or  animals, 
fixed  and  silent  as  statues:  at  least  in  my  distorted  condition 
of  mind  I  could  make  out  resemblances  to  many  such  familiar 
objects ;  the  floor  of  the  cavern  became  increasingly  steeper,  as 
was  shown  by  the  stalactites,  which,  hanging  here  and  there 
from  the  invisible  ceiling,  made  a  decided  angle  with  the  floor, 
corresponding  with  a  similar  angle  of  the  stalagmites  below. 
Like  an  accompanying  and  encircling  halo  the  ever  present 
earth-light  enveloped  us,  opening  in  front  as  we  advanced,  and 
vanishing  in  the  rear.  The  sound  of  our  footsteps  gave  back 
a  peculiar,  indescribable  hollow  echo,  and  our  voices  sounded 
ghost-like  and  unearthly,  as  if  their  origin  was  outside  of  our 
bodies,  and  at  a  distance.  The  peculiar  resonance  reminded  me 
of  noises  reverberating  in  an  empty  cask  or  cistern.  I  was 
oppressed  by  an  indescribable  feeling  of  myster\-  and  awe  that 
grew  deep  and  intense,  until  at  last  I  could  no  longer  bear  the 
mental  strain. 

"  Hold,  hold,"  I  shouted,  or  tried  to  shout,  and  stopped 
suddenly,  for  although  I  had  cried  aloud,  no  sound  escaped  my 
lips.  Then  from  a  distance — could  I  believe  my  senses  ? — from 
a  distance  as  an  echo,  the  cry  came  back  in  the  tones  of  my  own 
voice,  "  Hold,  hold." 

"  Speak  lower,"  said  my  guide,  "  speak  very  low,  for  now  an 
effort  such  as  you  have  made  projects  your  voice  far  outside  your 
body;  the  greater  the  exertion  the  farther  away  it  appears." 


THE  CRY  FROM  A  DISTANCE. 


129 


I  grasped  him  by  the  arm  and  said  slowly,  determinedly,  and 
in  a  suppressed  tone :  "  I  have  come  far  enough  into  the  secret 
caverns  of  the  earth,  without  knowing  our  destination ;  acquaint 
me  now  with  the  object  of  this  mysterious  journey,  I  demand, 
and  at  once  relieve  this  sense  of  uncertainty ;  otherwise  I  shall 
go  no  farther." 


"an  endless  variety  of  stony  figures." 

"You  are  to  proceed  to  the  Sphere  of  Rest  with  me,"  he 
replied,  "  and  in  safety.  Beyond  that  an  Unknown  Country  lies, 
into  which  I  have  never  ventured." 

"  You  speak  in  enigmas  ;  what  is  this  Sphere  of  Rest?  Where 
is  it?" 

"  Your  eyes  have  never  seen  anything  similar ;  human  philos- 
ophy has  no  conception  of  it,  and  I  can  not  describe  it,"  he  said. 
*'  It  is  located  in  the  body  of  the  earth,  and  we  will  meet  it  about 
one  thousand  miles  beyond  the  North  Pole." 

"  But  I  am  in  Kentucky,"  I  replied ;  "  do  you  think  that  I 
propose  to  walk  to  the  North  Pole,  man — if  man  you  be;  that 
unreached  goal  is  thousands  of  miles  away." 


130  ETinORHPA. 

"True,"  he  answered,  "as  yon  measnre  distance  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  and  you  could  not  walk  it  in  years  of  time ; 
but  you  are  now  twenty-five  miles  below  the  surface,  and  you 
must  be  aware  that  instead  of  becoming  more  weary  as  we 
proceed,  you  are  now  and  have  for  some  time  been  gaining 
streno-th.  I  would  also  call  to  your  attention  that  you  neither 
hunger  nor  thirst/' 

"  Proceed,"  I  said,  "  'tis  useless  to  rebel ;  I  am  wholly  in  your 
power,"  and  we  resumed  our  journey,  and  rapidly  went  forward 
amid  silences  that  were  to  me  painful  beyond  description.  We 
abruptly  entered  a  cavern  of  crystal,  every  portion  of  which  was 
of  sparkling  brilliancy,  and  as  white  as  snow.  The  stalactites, 
stalagmites  and  fungi  disappeared.  I  picked  up  a  fragment  of 
the  bright  material,  tasted  it,  and  found  that  it  resembled  pure 
salt.  Monstrous,  cubical  crystals,  a  foot  or  more  in  diameter, 
stood  out  in  bold  relief,  accumulations  of  them,  as  conglomer- 
ated masses,  banked  up  here  and  there,  making  parts  of  great 
columnar  cliffs,  while  in  other  formations  the  crystals  were  small, 
resembling  in  the  aggregate  masses  of  white  sandstone. 

"Is  not  this  salt?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes ;  we  are  now  in  the  dried  bed  of  an  underground 
lake." 

"Dried  bed?"  I  exclaimed;  "a  body  of  water  sealed  in  the 
earth  can  not  evaporate." 

"It  has  not  evaporated;  at  some  remote  period  the  Avater  has 
been  abstracted  from  the  salt,  and  probably  has  escaped  upon  the 
surface  of  the  earth  as  a  fresh  water  spring." 

"  You  contradict  all  laws  of  hydrostatics,  as  I  understand  that 
subject,"  I  replied,  "when  you  speak  of  abstracting  water  from  a 
dissolved  substance  that  is  part  of  a  liquid,  and  thus  leaving  the 
solids  " 

"  Nevertheless  this  is  a  constant  act  of  nature,"  said  he ; 
"  how  else  can  you  rationally  account  for  the  great  salt  beds  and 
other  deposits  of  saline  materials  that  exist  hermetically  sealed 
beneath  the  earth's  surface?" 

"  I  will  confess  that  I  have  not  given  the  subject  much 
thought ;  I  simply  accept  the  usual  explanation  to  the  effect  that 
salty  seas  have  lost  their  water  by  evaporation,  and  afterward 
the  salt  formations,  by  some  convulsions  of  nature,  have  been 


r-W^.-^i-iMiS^ 


"monstrous  cubical  crystals." 


A  CRY  FROM  THE  niSTANCE.  133 

covered  with  earth,  perhaps  sinking  by  earthquake  convulsions 
bodily  into  the  earth." 

"  These  explanations  are  examples  of  some  of  the  erroneous 
views  of  scientific  writers,"  he  replied ;  "  they  are  true  only  to  a 
limited  extent.  The  great  beds  of  salt,  deep  in  the  earth,  are 
usually  accumulations  left  there  by  water  that  is  drawn  from 
brine  lakes,  from  which  the  liberated  water  often  escaped  as  pure 
spring  water  at  the  surface  of  the  earth.  It  does  not  escape  by 
evaporation,  at  least  not  until  it  reaches  the  earth's  surface." 


INTERLUDE — THE  STORY  INTERRUPTED. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MY    UNBIDDEN   GUEST    PROVES    HIS    STATEMENT   AND    REFUTES 

MY    PHILOSOPHY. 

Let  the  reader  who  has  followed  this  strange  story  which  I 
am  directed  to  title  "  The  End  of  Earth,"  and  who,  in  imagina- 
tion, has  traversed  the  cavernous  passages  of  the  underworld 
and  listened  to  the  conversation  of  those  two  personages  who 
journeyed  towards  the  secrets  of  the  Beyond,  return  now  to 
upper  earth,  and  once  more  enter  my  secluded  lodgings,  the 
home  of  Llewellen  Drury,  him  who  listened  to  the  aged  guest 
and  who  claims  your  present  attention.  Remember  that  I  relate 
a  story  within  a  story.  That  importunate  guest  of  mine,  of  the 
glittering  knife  and  the  silvery  hair,  like  another  Ancient  ]\Iar- 
iner,  had  constrained  nic  to  listen  to  his  narrative,  as  he  read  it 
aloud  to  me  from  the  manuscript.  I  patiently  heard  chapter 
after  chapter,  generally  with  pleasure,  often  with  surprise,  some- 
times with  incredulity,  or  downright  dissent.  Much  of  the 
narrative,  I  nnist  say, — yes,  most  of  it,  appeared  possible,  if  not 
probable,  as  taken  in  its  connected  sequence.  The  scientific 
sections  were  not  uninteresting ;  the  marvels  of  the  fungus 
groves,  the  properties  of  the  inner  light,  I  was  not  disinclined  to 
accept  as  true  to  natural  laws;  but  when  The-Man-Who-Did-It 
came  to  tell  of  the  intra-earth  salt  deposits,  and  to  explain  the 
cause  of  the  disappearance  of  lakes  that  formerly  existed  under- 
ground, and  their  simultaneous  replacement  by  beds  of  salt,  my 
credulity  was  overstrained. 

"  Permit  me  to  interrupt  \'Our  narrative,"  I  remarked,  and 
then  in  response  to  my  request  the  venerable  guest  laid  down 
his  paper. 

"Well?"  he  said,  interrogatively. 

134 


MY  UNBIDDEN  GUEST  PROVES  HIS   STATEMENT.  135 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  last  statement  concerning  the  salt 
lake,  and,  to  speak  plainly,  I  would  not  have  accepted  it  as  you 
did,  even  had  I  been  in  )our  situation." 

"To  what  do  you  allude?"  he  asked. 

"  The  physical  abstraction  of  water  from  the  salt  of  a  solution 
of  salt ;  I  do  not  believe  it  possible  unless  by  evaporation  of  the 
water." 

"  You  seem  to  accept  as  conclusive  the  statements  of  men 
who  have  never  investigated  beneath  the  surface  in  these  direc- 
tions, and  you  question  the  evidence  of  a  man  who  has  seen  the 
phenomenon.  I  presume  you  accept  the  prevailing  notions 
about  salt  beds,  as  you  do  the  assertion  that  liquids  seek  a 
common  level,  which  your  scientific  authorities  also  teach  as  a 
law  of  nature?" 

"Yes;  I  do  believe  that  liquids  seek  a  common  level,  and  I 
am  willing  to  credit  }-our  other  improbable  statements  if  you  can 
demonstrate  the  principle  of  liquid  equilibrium  to  be  untrue." 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  to-morrow  evening  I  will  show  you  that 
fluids  seek  different  levels,  and  also  explain  to  }'ou  how  liquids 
may  leave  the  solids  they  hold  in  solution  without  evaporating 
from  them." 

He  arose  and  abruptly  departed.  It  was  near  morning,  and 
yet  I  sat  in  my  room  alone  pondering  the  story  of  my  unique 
guest  until  I  slept  to  dream  of  caverns  and  seances  until  day- 
light, when  I  was  awakened  by  their  vividness.  The  fire  was 
out,  the  room  was  cold,  and,  shivering  in  nervous  exhaustion, 
I  crept  into  bed  to  sleep  and  dream  again  of  horrible  things  I 
can  not  describe,  but  which  made  me  shudder  in  affright  at  their 
recollection.     Late  in  the  day  I  awoke. 

On  the  following  evening  my  persevering  teacher  appeared 
punctually,  and  displayed  a  few  glass  tubes  and  some  blotting 
or  bibulous  paper. 

"  I  will  first  show  you  that  liquids  may  change  their  levels 
in  opposition  to  the  accepted  laws  of  men,  not  contrary  to 
nature's  laws ;  however,  let  me  lead  to  the  experiments  by  a 
statement  of  facts,  that,  if  you  question,  you  can  investigate  at 
any  time.  If  two  vessels  of  water  be  connected  by  a  channel 
from  the  bottom  of  each,  the  water  surfaces  will  come  to  a 
common  level." 


136 


ETIDORHPA. 


-A  A,  water  in  tube 
seeks  a  level. 


He  selected  a  curved  glass  tube,  and  poured  water  into  it. 
The  water  assumed  the  position  shown  in  Figure  ii. 

"  You  have    not    shown    me    anything 

new,"  I  said;  "my  text-books  taught  me 
this." 

"True,  1  have  but  exhibited  that  which 
is  the  foundation  of  your  philosophy  re^- 
garding  the  surface  of  liquids.  Let  me 
proceed : 

"  If  we  pour  a  solution  of  common  salt 
into  such  a  U  tube,  as  I  do  now,  you 
perceive  that  it  also  rises  to  the  same 
level  in  both  ends." 
"  Of  course  it  does." 
"  Do  not  interrupt  me.  Into  one  arm 
of  the  tube  containing  the  brine  I  now 
carefully  pour  pure  water.  You  observe  that  the  surfaces  do  not 
seek  the  same  level."     (Figure  12.) 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  said ;   "  the  weight  CHH^  C       2> 

of  the  liquid  in  each  arm  is  the  same,  how- 
ever; the  columns  balance  each  other." 

"  Exactly ;  and  on  this  assumption  you 
base  your  assertion  that  connected  liquids 
of  the  same  gravity  must  always  seek  a 
common  level,  but  you  see  from  this  test 
that  if  two  liquids  of  different  gravities 
be  connected  from  beneath,  the  surface  of 
the  lighter  one  will  assume  a  higher  level 
than  the  surface  of  the  heavier." 

"  Agreed  ;  however  tortuous  the  chan- 
nel that  connects  them,  such  must  be  the 
case." 

"Is  it  not  supposable,"  said  he,  "that  there  might  be  two 
pockets  in  the  earth,  one  containing  salt  water,  the  other  fresh 
water,  which,  if  joined  together,  might  be  represented  by  such  a 
figure  as  this,  wherein  the  water  surface  would  be  raised  above 
that  of  the  brine?"  And  he  drew  upon  the  paper  the  accom- 
panying diagram.     (Figure  13.) 


Fig.  12. — A,  surface  of  water. 
B,  surface  of  brine. 


MY  UNBIDDEN  GUKST  PROVES   HIS  vSTATEMENT. 


137 


Tio    ij  — B   surface  of  brine 
W,  surface  of  water. 
S,  sand  strata  connecting  them. 


"Yes,"  I  admitted;  "providing,  of  course,  there  was  an  equal 
pressure  of  air  on  the  surface  of  each." 

"  Now  I  will  draw  a  figure  in  which  one  pocket  is  above 
the  other,  and  ask  )ou  to  imag- 


ine that  in  the  lower  jjocket  we 
have  pure  water,  in  the  upper 
pocket  brine  (Figure  14) ;  can 
you  bring  any  theory  of  }'our 
law  to  bear  upon  these  liquids 
so  that  by  connecting  them 
together  the  water  will  rise  and 
run  into  the  brine?" 

"  No,"  I  replied  ;  "  connect 
them,  and  then  the  brine  will 
flow  into  the  water," 

"  Upon  the  contrary,"  he  said ;  "  connect  them,  as  innumer- 
able cavities  in  the  earth  are  joined,  and  the  water  will  flow  into 
the  brine." 

"  The  assertion  is  opposed  to  applied  j)^iilosophy  and 
common  sense,"  I   said. 

"  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise,  you  know  to 

be  a  maxim  with  mortals,"  he 


replied ;  "  but  I  must  pardon 
you;  your  dogmatic  education 
narrows  your  judgment.  I  now 
will  prove  you  in  error." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  two 
slender  glass  tubes,  about  an 
eighth  of  an  inch  in  bore  and 
four  inches  in  length,  each 
closed  at  one  end,  and  stood 
them  in  a  perforated  cork  that 
he  placed  upon  the  table. 

Into  one  tube  he  poured 
water,  and  then  dissolving  some 
salt  in  a  cup,  poured  brine  into 
the  other,  filling  both  nearly  to  the  top  (Figure  15).  Next  he 
produced  a  short  curved  glass  tube,  to  each  end  of  which  was 
attached  a  strip  of  flexible  rubber  tubing.     Then,  from  a  piece 


Fig.  14.— B,  brine. 
W,  water. 
S,  sand  stratum. 
The  difference  in  altitude  is  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated to  make  the  phenomenon  clear.    A 
syphon  may  result  under  such  circumstances. 

— L-: 


138 


ETIDORHPA. 


n 


Fig.  15. 
A  A,  glass  tubes. 
K,  brine  surface. 
E,  water  surface. 


of  blotting  paper  such  as  is  used  to  blot  ink,  he  cut  a  narrow- 
strip  and  passed  it  through  the  arrangement,  forming  the  appa- 
ratus represented  by  Figure  16. 

Then  he  inserted  the  two  tubes  (Figure  15) 
into  the  rubber,  the  extremities  of  the  paper  being 
submerged  in  the  liquids,  producing  a  combina- 
tion that  rested  upright  in  the  cork  as  shown  by 
Figure  17. 

The  surfaces  of  both  liquids  were  at  once 
lowered  by  reason  of  the  suction  of  the  bibulous 
paper,  the  water  decreasing  most  rapidly,  and  soon 
the  creeping  liquids  met  by  absorption  in  the 
paper,  the  point  of  contact,  as  the  liquids  met, 
being  plainly  discernible.  Now  the  old  man  gently 
slid  the  tubes  iipon  each  other,  raising  one  a  little,  so  as  to  bring 
the  surfaces  of  the  two  liquids  exactly  on  a  plane;  he  then 
marked  the  glass  at  the  surface  of  each  with  a  pen. 

"  Observe  the  result,"  he  remarked  as  he  replaced  the  tubes 
in  the  cork  with  their  liquid  surfaces  on  a  line. 

Together  we  sat  and  watched,  and  soon  it  became  apparent 
that  the  surface  of  the  water  had  decreased  in 
height  as  compared  with  that  of  the  brine.  By 
fixing  my  gaze  on  the  ink  mark  on  the  glass  I  also 
observed  that  the  brine  in  the  opposing  tube  was 
rising. 

"  I  will  call  to-morrow  evening,"  he  said,  "  and 
we  shall  then  discover  which  is  true,  man's  theory 
or  nature's  practice." 

Within  a  short  time  enough  of  the  water  in  the  b,  curved  giass 
tube  had  been  transferred  to  the  brine  to  raise  its  ^i"'''^;. 

C  C,  rubber  tubes. 

surface  considerably  above  its  former  level,  the  sur-  d  d  d,  bibulous 
face  of  the  water  being  lowered  to  a  greater  degree,     ^^p^^- 
(Figure   18.)      I   was  discomfited  at    the  result,    and  upon  his 
appearance  next  evening  peevishly  said  to  the  experimenter: 

"  I  do  not  know  that  this  is  fair." 

"  Have  I  not  demonstrated  that,  by  properly  connecting  the 
liquids,  the  lighter  flows  into  the  heavier,  and  raises  itself  above 
the  former  surface?" 

"  Yes ;  but  there  is  no  porous  paper  in  the  earth." 


MY  UNBIDDKN  GUKST  PROVES  HIS  STATEMENT. 


139 


"  True ;  I  used  this  medium  because  it  was  convenient. 
There  are,  however,  vast  subterranean  beds  of  porous  materials, 
stone,  sand,  clay,  various  other  earths,  many  of  which  will 
answer  the  same  purpose.  By  perfectly  natural  laws,  on  a  large 
scale,  such  molecular  transfer  of  liquids  is  constantly  takinp- 
place  within  the  earth,  and  in  these  phenomena  the  law  of 
gravitation  seems  ignored,  and  the  rule  which  man 
believes  from  narrow  experience,  governs  the  flow 
of  liquids,  is  reversed.  The  arched  porous  medium 
always  transfers  the  lighter  liquid  into  the  heavier 
one  until  its  surface  is  raised  considerably  above 
that  of  the  light  one.  In  the  same  way  you  can 
demonstrate  that  alcohol  passes  into  water,  sul- 
phuric ether  into  alcohol,  and  other  miscible  light 
liquids  into  those  heavier." 

"  I  have  seen  you  exemplify  the  statement  on  a 
small  scale,  with  water  and  brine,  and  can  not  ques- 
tion but  that  it  is  true  on  a  large  one,"  I  replied. 

"  So  you  admit  that  the  assertion  governing  the 

surfaces  of  liquids  is  true  only  when  the  liquids 

are  connected  from  beneath.     In  other  words,  your 

thought  is  one-sided,  as  science  thought  often  is." 

"Yes." 

"  Now  as  to  the  beds  of  salt  deep  within  the  earth.  You  are 
also  mistaken  concerning  their  origin.  The  water 
of  the  ocean  that  runs  through  an  open  channel 
from  the  one  side  may  flow  into  an  underground 
lake,  that  by  means  of  the  contact  action  (suction) 
of  the  overlying  and  surrounding  strata  is  being 
continually  emptied  of  its  water,  but  not  its  salt. 
Thus  by  absorption  of  water  the  brine  of  the  lake 
becomes  in  time  saturated,  starting  crystallization 
regularly  over  the  floor  and  sides  of  the  basin. 
Eventually  the  entire  cavity  is  filled  with  salt,  and 
a  solid  mass  of  rock  salt  remains.  If,  however, 
before  the  lake  becomes  solid,  the  brine  supply 
is  shut  off  by  some  natural  cause  as  by  salt  crys- 
stals  closing  the  passage  thereto,  the  underground  lake  is  at 
last  drained  of  its  water,  the  salt  crystallizing  over  the  bottom, 


Fig.  17. 
A  A,  glass  tubes. 
B,  curved  glass 

tube. 
C  C,  rubber  tubes. 

D,  bibulous  paper. 

E,  water  surface. 

F,  brine  surface. 


Fig.  iS. 

E,  water  surface, 

F,  brine  surface. 


140  ETIDORHPA. 

and  upon  the  cliffs,  leaving  great  crevices  through  the  saline 
deposits,  as  chances  to  have  been  the  case  with  the  salt  forma- 
tions through  whicli  I  passed  with  my  guide,  and  have  recently 
described  to  you." 

"  Even  now  I  have  my  doubts  as  to  the  correctness  of  your 
explanations,  especially  concerning  the  liquid  surfaces." 

"They  are  facts,  however;  liquids  capable  of  being  mixed, 
if  connected  by  porous  arches  (bibulous  paper  is  convenient  for 
illustrating  by  experiment)  reverse  the  rule  men  have  accepted 
to  explain  the  phenomena  of  liquid  equilibrium,  for  I  repeat,  the 
lighter  one  rushes  into  that  which  is  heavier,  and  the  surface 
of  the  heavier  liquid  rises.  You  can  try  the  experiment  with 
alcohol  and  water,  taking  precautions  to  prevent  evaporation,  or 
you  can  vary  the  experiment  with  solutions  of  various  salts  of 
different  densities ;  the  greater  the  difference  in  gravity  between 
the  two  liquids,  the  more  rapid  will  be  the  flow  of  the  lighter 
one  into  the  heavier,  and  after  equilibrium,  the  greater  will  be 
the  contrast  in  the  final  height  of  the  resultant  liquid  surfaces." 

"  Men  will  yet  explain  this  effect  by  natural  laws,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "when  they  learn  the  facts;  and  they 
will  then  be  able  to  solve  certain  phenomena  connected  with 
diffusion  processes  that  they  can  not  now  understand.  Did  I 
not  tell  you  that  after  the  fact  had  been  made  plain  it  was  easy 
to  see  how  Columbus  stood  the  egg  on  its  end?  What  I  have 
demonstrated  by  experiment  is  perhaps  no  new  principle  in 
hydrostatics.  But  I  have  applied  it  in  a  natural  manner  to  the 
explanation  of  obscure  natural  phenomena,  that  men  now  seek 
unreasonable  methods  to  explain." 

"You  may  proceed  with  your  narrative.  I  accept  that  when 
certain  liquids  are  connected,  as  you  have  shown,  by  means  of 
porous  substances,  one  will  pass  into  the  other,  and  the  surface 
of  the  lighter  liquid  in  this  case  will  assume  a  position  below 
that  of  the  heavier." 

"You  must  also  accept,"  said  he,  "that  when  solutions  of 
salt  are  subjected  to  earth  attraction,  under  proper  conditions, 
the  solids  may  by  capillary  attraction  be  left  behind,  and  pure 
water  finally  pass  through  the  porous  medium.  Were  it  not  for 
this  law,  the  onlv  natural  surface  spring  water  on  earth  would 
be  brine,  for  the  superficial  crust  of  the  earth  is  filled  with  saline 


MY  UNBIDDEN  GUP:ST   PROVP^S   HIS  vSTATEMENT.  141 

solutions.  All  the  spriiii^-fed  rivers  and  lakes  would  also  be  salty 
and  fetid  with  sulphur  compounds,  for  at  great  depths  brine  and 
foul  water  are  always  present.  Even  in  countries  where  all  the 
water  below  the  immediate  surface  of  the  earth  is  briny,  the 
running  springs,  if  of  capillary  origin,  are  pure  and  fresh.  You 
may  imagine  how  different  this  would  be  were  it  not  for  the  law 
I  have  cited,  for  the  whole  earth's  crust  is  permeated  by  brine 
and  saline  waters.  Did  your  '  philosoj^hy '  never  lead  you  to 
think  of  this?" 

Continuing,  my  guide  argued  as  follows:  "Do  not  lakes  exist 
on  the  earth's  surface  into  which  rivers  and  streams  flow,  but 
which  have  no  visible  outlet?  Are  not  such  lakes  saline,  even 
though  the  source  of  supply  is  comparatively  fresh?  Has  it 
never  occurred  to  you  to  question  whether  capillarity  assisted  by 
surface  evaporation  (not  evaporation  only  as  men  assert)  is  not 
separating  the  water  of  these  lakes  from  the  saline  substances 
carried  into  them  by  the  streams,  thus  producing  brine  lakes? 
Will  not  this  action  after  a  great  length  of  time  result  in  crystal- 
line deposits  over  portions  of  the  bottoms  of  such  lakes,  and 
ultimately  produce  a  salt  bed?" 

"  It  is  possible,"  I  replied. 

"Not  only  possible,  but  probable.  Not  only  probable,  but 
true.  Across  the  intervening  brine  strata  above  the  salt  crystals 
the  surface  rivers  may  flow,  indeed,  owing  to  differences  in 
specific  gravity  the  surface  of  the  lake  may  be  comparativeh- 
fresh,  while  in  the  quiet  depths  below,  beds  of  salt  crystals  are 
forming,  and  between  these  extremes  may  rest  strata  after  strata 
of  saline  solutions,  decreasing  in  gravity  towards  the  top." 

Then  he  took  his  manuscript,  and  continued  to  read  in  a 
clear,  musical  voice,  while  I  sat  a  more  contented  listener  than  I 
had  been  previously.  I  was  not  only  confuted,  but  convinced. 
And  I  recalled  the  saying  of  Socrates,  that  no  better  fortune  can 
happen  a  man  than  to  be  confuted  in  an  error. 


MY  UNBIDDEN  GUEST  CONTINUES  READING  HIS  MANUSCRIPT. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

MY   WEIGHT    DISAPPEARING. 

We  halted  suddenly,  for  we  came  unexpectedly  to  the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  twenty  feet  at  least  in  depth. 

"  Let  us  jump  down,"  said  my  guide. 

"  That  would  be  dangerous,"  I  answered ;  "  can  not  we 
descend  at  some  point  where  it  is  not  so  deep?" 

"No;  the  chasm  stretches  for  miles  across  our  path,  and  at 
this  point  we  will  meet  with  the  least  difficulty;  besides,  there  is 
no  danger.  The  specific  gravity  of  our  bodies  is  now  so  little 
that  we  could  jump  twice  that  distance  with  impunity." 

"  I  can  not  comprehend  you ;  we  are  in  the  flesh,  our  bodies 
are  possessed  of  weight,  the  concussion  will  be  violent." 

"  You  reason  again  from  the  condition  of  your  former  life, 
and,  as  usual,  are  mistaken ;  there  will  be  little  shock,  for,  as  I 
have  said,  our  bodies  are  comparatively  light  now.  Have  }ou 
forgotten  that  your  motion  is  continuously  accelerated,  and  that 
without  perceptible  exertion  you  move  rapidly  ?  This  is  partly 
because  of  the  loss  of  weight.  Your  weight  would  now  be  only 
about  fifty  pounds  if  tested  by  a  spring  balance." 

I  stood  incredulous. 

"  You  trifle  with  me ;  I  weigh  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds ;  how  have  I  lost  weight  ?  It  is  true  that  I  have  noticed 
the  ease  with  which  we  have  recently  progressed  on  our  journey, 
especially  the  latter  part  of  it,  but  I  attribute  this,  in  part,  to 
the  fact  that  our  course  is  down  an  incline,  and  also  to  the 
vitalizing  power  of  this  cavern  air." 

"This  explains  part  of  the  matter,"  he  said;  "it  answered 
at  the  time,  and  I  stated  a  fact;  but  were  it  not  that  you  are 
really  consuming  a  comparatively  small  amount  of  energv,  you 

112 


MY  WKIGIIT  DISAITRARING. 


143 


would  long  before  this  have  been  completely  exhausted.  Yon 
have  been  gaining  strength  for  some  hours;  have  really  been 
growing  younger.  Your  wrinkled  face  has  become  more  smooth, 
and  your  voice 
is  again  natural. 
You  were  prema- 
turely aged  by 
your  brothers  on 
the  surface  of  the 
earth,  in  order 
that  when  you 
pass  the  line 
of  gravity,  }-ou 
might  be  vigor- 
ous and  enjoying 
manhood  again. 
Had  this  aging 
process  not  been 
accomplished 
you  would  now 
have  become  as 
a  child  in  many 
respects." 

He  halted  be- 
fore me.  "Jump 
up,"  he  said.  I 
promptly  obeyed 
the  unexpected 
command,  and 
sprung  upward 
with  sufficient 
force  to  carry 
me,  as  I  sup- 
posed, six  inches 
from  the  earth  ; 
however  I  bound- 
ed upward  fully 
six  feet.  My  look 
■of  surprise  as  I 


yf<^'§ 


"  I    BOUNDED    UPWARD    FUIJA'    SIX    FEET." 


144 


ETIDORHPA. 


gently   alighted,  for    there  was   no  concussion    on    my    return, 
seemed  lost  on  my  guide,  and  he  quietly  said : 

*'  If  }'ou  can  leap  six  feet  upward  without  excessive  exertion, 
or  return  shock,  can  not  you  jump  twenty  feet  down?     Look!" 


"I    FLUTTERED   TO    THE    EARTH   AS   A   LEAF   WOULD    FALL." 


And  he  leaped  lightly  over  the  precipice  and  stood  unharmed 

on  the  stony  floor  below. 

Even  then  I  hesitated,  observing  which,  he  cried: 

"  Hang  by  your  hands  from  the  edge  then,  and  drop." 

I  did  so,  and  the  fourteen  feet  of  fall  seemed  to  affect  me  as 

though  I  had  become  as  light  as  cork.     I  fluttered  to  the  earth 

as  a  leaf  would  fall,  and  leaned  against  the  precipice  in  surprised 

meditation. 

*'  Others  have  been  through  your  experience,"  he  remarked, 

"and  I  therefore  can  overlook  your  incredulity;  but  experiences 

such  as  you  now  meet,  remove  distrust.     Doing  is  believing.'^ 

He  smiled  benignantly. 


MY  WRIGHT  DISAPPEARING. 


145 


I  pondered,  revolvinc^  in  my  mind  the  fact  that  persons  had 
in  mental   abstraction,  passed   through  unusual   experiences   in 


r>^^. 


ignorance  of  condi- 
tions about  them, 
until  their  attention 
had  been  called  to 
the  seen  and  yet 
unnoticed  surround- 
ings, and  they  had 
then  beheld  the  facts 
plainly.  The  puzzle 
picture  (see  p.  129) 
stares  the  eye  and 
impresses  the  retina, 
but  is  devoid  of 
character  until  the 
hidden  form  is  de- 
veloped in  the  mind, 
and  then  that  form  is 
always  prominent  to 
the  eye.  My  remark- 
ably light  step,  now 
that  my  attention 
had  been  directed 
thereto,  was  con- 
stantly in  my  mind, 
and  I  found  myself 
suddenly  possessed 
of  the  strength  of  a 
man,  but  with  the 
weight  of  an  infant. 
I  raised  my  feet 
without  an  effort ; 
they  seemed  desti- 
tute     of      weight"       I  "^^^  LEAPED  OVER  GREAT  INEQUALITIES." 

leaped  about,  tumbled,  and  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  smooth 
stone  floor  without  injury.  It  appeared  that  I  had  become  the 
airy  similitude  of  my  former  self,  my  material  substance  having 
wasted  away  without  a  corresponding  impairment  of  strength. 


146  ETIDORHPA. 

I  ]nnched  my  flesh  to  be  assured  that  all  was  not  a  dream, 
and  then  endeavored  to  convince  myself  that  I  was  the  victim 
of  delirium ;  but  in  vain.  Too  sternly  my  self-existence  con- 
fronted me  as  a  reality,  a  cruel  reality.  A  species  of  intoxication 
possessed  me  once  more,  and  I  now  hoped  for  the  end,  whatever 
it  might  be.  We  resumed  our  journey,  and  rushed  on  with 
increasing  rapidity,  galloping  hand  in  hand,  down,  down,  ever 
downward  into  the  illuminated  crevice  of  the  earth.  The  spec- 
tral light  by  which  we  were  aureoled  increased  in  intensity, 
as  by  arithmetical  progression,  and  I  could  now  distinguish 
objects  at  a  considerable  distance  before  us.  My  spirits  rose  as 
if  I  were  under  the  influence  of  a  potent  stimulant ;  a  liveliness 
that  was  the  opposite  of  my  recent  despondency  had  gained 
control,  and  I  was  again  possessed  of  a  delicious  mental 
sensation,  to  which  I  can  only  refer  as  a  most  rapturous 
exhilaration.  j\Iy  guide  grasped  my  hand  firmly,  and  his  touch, 
instead  of  revolting  me  as  formerly  it  had  done,  gave  pleasure. 
"We  together  leaped  over  great  inequalities  in  the  floor,  per- 
forming these  aerial  feats  almost  as  easily  as  a  bird  flies.  Indeed, 
I  felt  that  I  possessed  the  power  of  flight,  for  we  bounded 
fearlessly  down  great  declivities  and  over  abysses  that  were 
often  perpendicular,  and  many  times  our  height.  A  very  slight 
muscular  exertion  was  sufficient  to  carry  us  rods  of  distance,  and 
almost  tiptoeing  we  skimmed  with  ever-increasing  speed  down 
the  steeps  of  that  unknown  declivity.  At  length  my  guide  held 
hack;  we  gradually  lessened  our  velocity,  and,  after  a  time, 
rested  beside  a  horizontal  substance  that  lay  before  us,  appar- 
ently a  sheet  of  glass,  rigid,  immovable,  immeasurably  great, 
that  stretched  as  a  level  surface  before  us,  vividly  distinct  in  the 
brightness  of  an  earth  light,  that  now  proved  to  be  superior  to 
sunshine.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  glassy  barrier  to  our 
further  progress  spread  as  a  crystal  mirror  in  front,  and  \'anishing 
in  the  distance,  shut  off"  the  beyond. 


"  FAR  AS  THE   EYE  COUIvD   REACH  THE  GLASSY  BARRIER  SPREAD 
AS   A   CRYSTAL    MIRROR." 


INTERLUDE.-THE  STORY  AGAIN  INTERRUPTED. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

MY  UNBIDDEN  GUEST  DEPARTS. 

Once  more  I  must  presume  to  interrupt  this  narrative,  and 
call  back  the  reader's  thoughts  from  those  mysterious  caverns 
through  which  we  have  been  tracing  the  rapid  footsteps  of  the 
man  who  was  abducted,  and  his  uncouth  pilot  of  the  lower 
realms.  Let  us  now  see  and  hear  what  took  place  in  my  room, 
in  Cincinnati,  just  after  my  visitor,  known  to  us  as  The-Man- 
Who-Did-It,  had  finished  reading  to  me,  Lewellyn  Drury,  the 
editor  of  this  volume,  the  curious  chapter  relating  how  the 
underground  explorers  lost  weight  as  they  descended  in  the 
hollows  of  the  earth.  ]\Iy  French  clock  struck  twelve  of  its 
clear  silvery  notes  before  the  gray-bearded  reader  finished  his 
stint  for  the  occasion,  and  folded  his  manuscript  preparatory  to 
placing  it  within  his  bosom. 

"  It  is  past  midnight,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  time  for  me  to 
depart ;  but  I  will  come  to  you  again  within  a  year. 

"  Meanwhile,  during  my  absence,  search  the  records,  question 
authorities,  and  note  such  objections  as  rise  therefrom  concerning 
the  statements  I  have  made.  Establish  or  disprove  historically, 
or  scientifically,  any  portion  of  the  life  histor}'  that  I  have  given, 
and  when  I  return  I  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  and  meet 
your  argument.  If  there  is  a  doubt  concerning  the  authenticity 
of  any  part  of  the  history,  investigate ;  but  make  no  mention  to 
others  of  thedetailsof  our  meetings." 

I  sat  some  time  in  thought,  then  said:  "I  decline  to  concern 
myself  in  verifying  the  historical  part  of  your  narrative.  The 
localities  you  mention  may  be  true  to  name,  and  it  is  possible 
that  you  have  related  a  personal  history ;  but  I  can  not  perceive 
that  I  am  interested  in  either  proving  or  disproving  it.     I  will 


150  ETIDORIIPA. 

say,  however,  that  it  does  not  seem  probable  that  at  any  time  a 
man  can  disappear  from  a  community,  as  you  claim  to  have 
done,  and  have  been  the  means  of  creating  a  commotion  in  his 
neighborhood  that  affected  political  parties,  or  even  led  to  an 
unusual  local  excitement,  outside  his  immediate  circle  of  acquaint- 
ances, for  a  man  is  not  of  sufficient  importance  unless  he  is  very 
conspicuoUvS.  By  your  own  admission,  you  were  simply  a 
studious  mechanic,  a  credulous  believer  in  alchemistic  vagaries, 
and  as  I  revolve  the  matter  over,  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  now 
trying  to  impose  on  my  credulity.  The  story  of  a  forcible 
abduction,  in  the  manner  you  related,  seems  to  me  incredible, 
and  not  worthy  of  investigation,  even  had  I  the  inclination  to 
concern  myself  in  your  personal  affairs.  The  statements,  how- 
ever, that  you  make  regarding  the  nature  of  the  crust  of  the 
earth,  gravitation,  light,  instinct,  and  human  senses  are  highly 
interesting,  and  even  plausible  as  you  artfully  present  the 
subjects,  I  candidly  admit,  and  I  shall  take  some  pains  to  make 
inquiries  concerning  the  recorded  researches  of  experts  who 
have  investigated  in  that  direction." 

"  Collect  your  evidence,"  said  he,  "  and  I  shall  listen  to  your 
views  when  I  return." 

He  opened  the  door,  glided  away,  and  I  was  alone  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

I  QUESTION  SCIENTIFIC  MEN. — ARISTOTI^E'S   ETHER. 

Days  and  weeks  passed.  When  the  opportunity  presented, 
I  consulted  Dr.  W.  B.  Chapman,  the  druggist  and  student  of 
science,  regarding  the  nature  of  light  and  earth,  who  in  turn 
referred  me  to  Prof.  Daniel  Vaughn.  This  learned  man,  in 
reply  to  my  question  concerning  gravitation,  declared  that  there 
was  much  that  men  wished  to  understand  in  regard  to  this 
mighty  force,  that  might  yet  be  explained,  but  which  may  never 
become  known  to  mortal  man. 

"The  correlation  of  forces,"  said  he,  "was  prominently  intro- 
duced and  considered  by  a  painstaking  scientific  writer  named 
Joule,  in  several  papers  that  appeared  between  1843  and  1850, 
and  he  was  followed  by  others,  who  engaged  themselves  in 
experimenting  and  theorizing,  and  I  may  add  that  Joule  was 
indeed  preceded  in  such  thought  by  Mayer.  This  department 
of  scientific  study  just  now  appears  of  unusual  interest  to 
scientists,  and  your  questions  embrace  problems  connected  with 
some  phases  of  its  phenomena.  We  believe  that  light,  heat, 
and  electricity  are  mutually  convertible,  in  fact,  the  evidences 
recently  opened  up  to  us  show  that  such  must  be  the  case. 
These  agencies  or  manifestations  are  now  known  to  be  so  related 
that  whenever  one  disappears  others  spring  into  existence. 
Study  the  beautiful  experiments  and  remarkable  investigations 
of  Sir  William  Thomson  in  these  directions." 

"And  what  of  gravitation?"  I  asked,  observing  that  Prof. 
Vaughn  neglected  to  include  gravitation  among  his  numerous 
enumerated  forces,  and  recollecting  that  the  force  gravitation 
was  more  closely  connected  with  my  visitor's  stor}-  than  perhaps 
were  any  of  the  others,  excepting  the  mysterious  mid-earth 
illumination. 

"Of  that  force  we  are  in  greater  ignorance  than  of  the 
others,"  he  replied.     "  It  affects  bodies  terrestrial  and  celestial, 

lol 


152  KTIDORIIPA. 

drawing  a  material  substance,  or  pressini;^  to  the  earth;  also 
holds,  we  believe,  the  earth  and  all  other  bodies  in  position  in 
the  heavens,  thus  maintaining  the  equilibrium  of  the  planets. 
Seemingly  gravitation  is  not  derived  from,  or  sustained  by,  an 
external  force,  or  supply  reservoir,  but  is  an  intrinsic  entity,  a 
characteristic  of  matter  that  decreases  in  intensity  at  the  rate 
of  the  square  of  the  increasing  distance,  as  bodies  recede  from 
each  other,  or  from  the  surface  of  the  earth.  However,  gravita- 
tion neither  escapes  by  radiation  from  bodies  nor  needs  to  be 
replenished,  so  far  as  we  know,  from  without.  It  may  be 
compared  to  an  elastic  band,  but  there  is  no  intermediate  tangi- 
ble substance  to  influence  bodies  that  are  affected  by  it,  and  it 
remains  in  undying  tension,  unlike  all  elastic  material  substances 
known,  neither  losing  nor  acquiring  energy  as  time  passes. 
Unlike  cohesion,  or  chemical  attraction,  it  exerts  its  influence 
upon  bodies  that  are  out  of  contact,  and  have  no  material 
connection,  and  this  necessitates  a  purely  fanciful  explanation 
concerning  the  medium  that  conducts  such  influences,  bringing 
into  existence  the  illogical,  hypothetical,  fifth  ether,  made  con- 
spicuous by  Aristotle." 

"What  of  this  ether?"  I  queried. 

"  It  is  a  necessity  in  science,  but  intangible,  undemonstrated, 
unknown,  and  wholly  theoretical.  It  is  accepted  as  an  existing 
fluid  by  scientists,  because  human  theory  can  not  conceive  of  a 
substance  capable  of,  or  explain  how  a  substance  can  be  capable 
of  affecting  a  separate  body  unless  there  is  an  intermediate 
medium  to  convey  force  impressions.  Hence  to  material  sub- 
stances Aristotle  added  (or  at  least  made  conspicuous)  a 
speculative  ether  that,  he  assumed,  pervades  all  space,  and  all 
material  bodies  as  well,  in  order  to  account  for  the  passage  of 
heat  and  light  to  and  from  the  sun,  stars,  and  planets." 

"  Explain  further,"  I  requested. 

"  To  conceive  of  such  an  entity  we  must  imagine  a  material 
that  is  more  evanescent  than  any  known  gas,  even  in  its  most 
diffused  condition.  It  must  combine  the  solidity  of  the  most 
perfect  conductor  of  heat  (exceeding  any  known  body  in  this 
respect  to  an  infinite  degree),  with  the  transparency  of  an 
absolute  vacuum.  It  must  neither  create  friction  by  contact 
with   any  substance,   nor   possess   attraction  for   matter;    must 


I  QUESTION  SCIKNTIFIC  MEN.  153 

neither  possess  weight  (and  yet  carry  the  force  that  produces 
weight),  nor  respond  to  the  influence  of  any  chemical  agent,  or 
exhibit  itself  to  any  optical  instrument.  It  must  be  invisible, 
and  yet  carry  the  force  that  produces  the  sensation  of  sight.  It 
must  be  of  such  a  nature  that  it  can  not,  according  to  our 
philosophy,  affect  the  corpuscles  of  earthly  substances  while 
permeating  them  without  contact  or  friction,  and  yet,  as  a 
scientific  incongruity,  it  must  act  so  readily  on  physical  bodies 
as  to  convey  to  the  material  eye  the  sensation  of  sight,  and  from 
the  sun  to  creatures  on  distant  planets  it  must  carry  the  heat 
force,  thus  giving  rise  to  the  sensation  of  warmth.  Through 
this  medium,  yet  without  sensible  contact  with  it,  worlds  must 
move,  and  planetary  systems  revolve,  cutting  and  piercing  it  in 
ever}'  direction,  without  loss  of  momentum.  And  yet,  as  I  have 
said,  this  ether  must  be  in  such  close  contact  as  to  convey  to 
them  the  essence  that  warms  the  universe,  lights  the  universe, 
and  must  supply  the  attractive  bonds  that  hold  the  stellar  worlds 
in  position.  A  nothing  in  itself,  so  far  as  man's  senses  indicate, 
the  ether  of  space  must  be  denser  than  iridium,  more  mobile 
than  any  known  liquid,  and  stronger  than  the  finest  steel." 

"  I  can  not  conceive  of  such  an  entity,"  I  replied. 

"  No ;  neither  can  any  man,  for  the  theory  is  irrational,  and 
can  not  be  supported  by  comparison  with  laws  known  to  man, 
but  the  conception  is  nevertheless  a  primary  necessity  in  scien- 
tific study.  Can  man,  by  any  rational  theor}-,  combine  a  vacuum 
and  a  substance,  and  create  a  result  that  is  neither  material  nor 
vacuity,  neither  something  nor  nothing,  and  yet  an  intensified 
all;  being  more  attenuated  than  the  most  perfect  of  known 
vacuums,  and  a  conductor  better  than  the  densest  metal  ?  This 
we  do  when  we  attempt  to  describe  the  scientists'  all-pervading 
ether  of  space,  and  to  account  for  its  influence  on  matter.  This 
hypothetical  ether  is,  for  want  of  a  better  theory  of  causes,  as 
siipreme  in  philosophy  to-day  as  the  alkahest  of  the  talented  old 
alchemist  Van  Helmont  was  in  former  times,  a  universal  spirit 
that  exists  in  conception,  and  yet  does  not  exist  in  perception, 
and  of  which  modern  science  knows  as  little  as  its  specula- 
tive promulgator,  Aristotle,  did.  We  who  pride  ourselves  on  our 
exact  science,  smile  at  some  of  Aristotle's  statements  in  other 
directions,  for  science   has  disproved  them,   and  yet  necessity 


154  ETIDORIIPA. 

forces  lis  to  accept  this  illo^i^ical  ether  speculation,  which  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  unreasonable  of  all  theories.  Did  not  this 
Greek  philosopher  also  gravely  assert  that  the  lion  has  but  one 
vertebra  in  his  neck;  that  the  breath  of  man  enters  the  heart; 
that  the  back  of  the  head  is  empty,  and  that  man  has  but  eight 
ribs?" 

"Aristotle  must  have  been  a  careless  observer,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "it  would  seem  so,  and  science,  to-day, 
bases  its  teachings  concerning  the  passage  of  all  forces  from 
planet  to  planet,  and  sun  to  sun,  on  dicta  such  as  I  have  cited, 
and  no  more  reasonable  in  applied  experiment." 

"  And  I  have  been  referred  to  you  as  a  conscientious  scientific 
teacher,"  I  said;  "why  do  you  speak  so  facetiously?" 

"  I  am  well  enough  versed  in  what  we  call  science,  to  have 
no  fear  of  injuring  the  cause  by  telling  the  truth,  and  you  asked 
a  direct  question.  If  your  questions  carry  you  farther  in  the 
direction  of  force  studies,  accept  at  once,  that,  of  the  intrinsic 
constitution  of  force  itself,  nothing  is  known.  Heat,  light, 
magnetism,  electricity,  galvanism  (until  recently  known  as 
imponderable  bodies)  are  now "  considered  as  modifications  of 
force ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  time  will  come  when  they  will 
be  known  as  disturbances." 

"  Disturbances  of  what?" 

"I  do  not  know  precisely ;  but  of  something  that  lies  behind 
them  all,  perhaps  creates  them  all,  but  yet  is  in  essence  unknown 
to  men." 

"Giv^e  me  a  clearer  idea  of  your  meaning." 

"It  seems  impossible,"  he  replied;  "I  can  not  find  words 
in  which  to  express  myself;  I  do  not  believe  that  forces,  as 
we  know  them  (imponderable  bodies),  are  as  modern  physics 
defines  them.  I  am  tempted  to  say  that,  in  my  opinion,  forces 
are  disturbance  expressions  of  a  something  with  which  we  are 
not  acquainted,  and  yet  in  which  we  are  submerged  and  per- 
meated. Aristotle's  ether  perhaps.  It  seems  to  me,  that, 
behind  all  material  substances,  including  forces,  there  is  an 
unknown  spirit,  which,  by  certain  influences,  may  be  ruffled 
into  the  exhibition  of  an  expression,  which  exhibition  of  temper 
we  call  a  force.  From  this  spirit  these  force  expressions  (wave- 
lets  or   disturbances)    arise,   and    yet    they   may  become    again 


I  QUESTION  vSCIKNTIFIC  MEN.  155 

quiescent,  and  again  rest  in  its  absorbing  unity.  The  water 
from  the  outlet  of  a  cahn  lake  flows  over  a  gentle  decline  in 
ripples,  or  quiet  undulations,  over  the  rapids  in  musical  laugli- 
ings,  over  a  precipice  in  thunder  tones, — always  water,  each  a 
different  phase,  however,  to  become  quiet  in  another  lake  (as 
ripples  in  this  universe  may  awaken  to  our  perception,  to  repose 
again),  and  still  be  water." 

He  hesitated. 

"  Go  on,"  I  said. 

"  So  I  sometimes  have  dared  to  dream  that  gravitation  may  be 
the  reser\^oir  that  conserves  the  energy  for  all  mundane  forces, 
and  that  what  we  call  modifications  of  force  are  intermediate 
conditions,  ripples,  rapids,  or  cascades,  in  gravitation." 

"  Continue,"  I  said,  eagerly,  as  he  hesitated. 

He  shook  his  head. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  PROF.  DANIEL  VAUGHN. — "GRAVITATION 
IS  THE  BEGINNING  AND  GRAVITATION  IS  THE  END:  ALL 
EARTHLY   BODIES    KNEEL   TO   GRAVITATION." 

"  Please  continue,  I  am  intense!}'  interested ;  I  wish  that  I 
could  give  you  my  reasons  for  the  desire ;  I  can  not  do  so,  but  I 
beg  you  to  continue." 

"  I  should  add,"  continued  Vaughn,  ignoring  my  remarks, 
"  that  we  have  established  rules  to  measure  the  force  of  gravi- 
tation, and  have  estimated  the  decrease  of  attraction  as  we 
leave  the  surfaces  of  the  planets.  We  have  made  comparative 
estimates  of  the  weight  of  the  earth  and  planets,  and  have 
reason  to  believe  that  the  force  expression  of  gravitation  attains 
a  maximum  at  about  one-sixth  the  distance  toward  the  center  of 
the  earth,  then  decreases,  until  at  the  very  center  of  our  planet, 
matter  has  no  weight.  This,  together  with  the  rule  I  repeated 
a  few  moments  ago,  is  about  all  we  know,  or  think  we  know,  of 
gravitation.  Gravitation  is  the  beginning  and  gravitation  is  the 
end;  all  earthh-  bodies  kneel  to  gravitation.  I  can  not  imagine 
a  Beyond,  and  yet  gravitation,"  mused  the  rapt  philosopher, 
"  may  also  be  an  expression  of" — he  hesitated  again,  forgetting 
me  completely,  and  leaned  his  shaggy  head  upon  his  hands.  I 
realized  that  his  mind  w^as  lost  in  conjecture,  and  that  he  was 
absorbed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  scientific  immensity.  Would 
he  speak  again?  I  could  not  think  of  disturbing  his  reverie, 
and  minutes  passed  in  silence.  Then  he  slowly,  softly,  rever- 
ently murmured:  "Gravitation,  Gravitation,  thou  art  seemingly 
the  one  permanent,  ever  present  earth-bound  expression  of 
Omnipotence.  Heat  and  light  come  and  go,  as  vapors  of  water 
condense  into  rain  and  dissolve  into  vapor  to  return  again  to 
the  atmosphere.  Electricity  and  magnetism  appear  and  disap- 
pear; like  summer  storms  they  move  in  diversified  channels,  or 
even  turn  and   flv  from   contact  with   some   bodies,  seeminglv 

156  ' 


"soliloquy  of  prof.  DANIEL  VAUGHN. 

'GR-\VITATION    IS    THE    Bp:GINNING,   AND    GRAVITATION    IS   THE    END;    ALL, 
EARTHLV   BODIES    KNEEL   TO   GRAVITATION.'" 


THE    SOLILOQUY  OF  PROF.  DANIEL  VAUGHN.  159 

forbidden  to  appear,  but  thou,  Gravitation,  art  omnipresent 
and  omnipotent.  Thou  Greatest  motion,  and  yet  maintainest 
the  equilibrium  of  all  things  mundane  and  celestial.  An  attempt 
to  imagine  a  body  destitute  of  thy  potency,  would  be  to  bankrupt 
and  deaden  the  material  universe.  O !  Gravitation,  art  thou  a 
voice  out  of  the  Beyond,  and  are  other  forces  but  echoes — 
tremulous  reverberations  that  start  into  life  to  vibrate  for  a  spell 
and  die  in  the  space  caverns  of  the  universe  while  thou  contin- 
uest  supreme?" 

His  bowed  head  and  rounded  shoulders  stooped  yet  lower ; 
he  unconsciously  brushed  his  shaggy  locks  with  his  hand,  and 
seemed  to  confer  with  a  familiar  Being  whom  others  could  not 
see. 

"A  voice  from  without,"  he  repeated;  "from  beyond  our 
realm!  Shall  the  subtle  ears  of  future  scientists  catch  yet 
lighter  echoes?  Will  the  brighter  thoughts  of. more  gifted  men, 
under  such  furtherings  as  the  future  may  bring,  perchance  com- 
mune wdtli  beings  who  people  immensity,  distance  disappearing 
before  thy  ever-reaching  spirit?  For  with  thee,  who  boldest  the 
universe  together,  space  is  not  space,  and  there  is  no  word 
expressing  time.  Art  thou  a  voice  that  carriest  the  history  of 
the  past  from  the  past  unto  and  into  the  present,  and  for  which 
there  is  no  future,  all  conditions  of  time  being  as  one  to  thee, 
thy  self  covering  all  and  connecting  all  together?  Art  thou. 
Gravitation,  a  voice  ?  If  so,  there  must  be  a  something  farther 
out  in  those  fathomless  caverns,  beyond  mind  imaginings,  from 
which  thou  comest,  for  how  could  nothingness  have  formulated 
itself  into  a  voice?  The  suns  and  universe  of  suns  about  us, 
may  be  only  vacant  points  in  the  depths  of  an  all-pervading 
entity  in  which  even  thyself  dost  exist  as  a  momentary  echo, 
linked  to  substances  ponderous,  destined  to  fade  away  in  the 
interstellar  expanse  outside,  where  disturbances  disappear, 
and  matter  and  gravitation  together  die ;  where  all  is  pure, 
quiescence,  peaceful,  and  dark.  Gravitation,  Gravitation,  imper- 
ishable Gravitation;  thou  seemingly  art  the  ever-pervading, 
unalterable,  but  yet  moving  spirit  of  a  cosmos  of  solemn  myste- 
ries. Art  thou  now,  in  unperceived  force  expressions,  speaking 
to  dumb  humanity  of  other  universes ;  of  suns  and  vortices  of 
suns ;  bringing  tidings  from  the  solar  planets,  or  even  infinitely 


160  ETIDORIII'A. 

distant  star  mists,  the  silent  nnresolved  nebnla;,  and  spreading- 
before  eartli-])onnd  mortal  minds,  each  instant,  fresh  tidings 
from  withont,  thai,  in  ignorance,  we  can  not  read?  May  not 
beings,  perhaps  like  onrselves  bnt  higher  in  the  scale  of  intelli- 
gence, those  who  people  some  of  the  planets  abont  ns,  even  now 
beckon  and  try  to  converse  with  us  through  thy  subtle,  ever- 
present  self?  And  may  not  their  efforts  at  communication  fail 
because  of  our  ignorance  of  a  language  they  can  read?  Are  not 
light  and  heat,  electricity  and  magnetism  plodding,  vascillating 
agents  compared  with  thy  steady  existence,  and  is  it  even  further 
possible?" — 

His  voice  had  gradually  lowered,  and  now  it  became  inaudi- 
ble ;  he  was  oblivious  to  nu'  presence,  and  had  gone  forth  from 
his  own  self;  he  was  lost  in  matters  celestial,  and  aljstractedly 
continued  unintelligibly  to  mutter  to  himself  as,  brushing  his 
hair  from  his  forehead,  he  picked  up  his  well-worn  felt  hat,  and 
placed  it  awkwardly  on  his  shaggy  head,  and  then  shuffled  away 
without  bidding  me  farewell.  The  bent  form,  prematurely 
shattered  by  privation ;  uncouth,  unkempt,  t}pical  of  suffering 
and  neglect,  impressed  me  with  the  fact  that  in  him  man's  life 
essence,  the  immortal  mind,  had  forgotten  the  material  part  of 
man.  The  physical  half  of  man,  even  of  his  own  being,  in 
Daniel  Vaughn's  estimation,  was  an  encumbrance  unworthy  of 
serious  attention,  his  spirit  communed  with  the  pure  in  nature, 
and  to  him  science  was  a  studv  of  the  <rreat  Be\-ond.* 


•■'  Mr.  Drury  can  not  claim  to  have  recorded  verbatim  Prof.  Vaughn's  remarks,  but  has 
endeavored  to  give  the  substance.  His  language  was  faultless,  his  word  selections  beautiful, 
his  soliloquy  impressive  beyond  description.  Perhaps  Drury  even  misstated  an  idea,  or  more 
than  one,  evolved  then  by  the  great  mind  of  that  patient  man.  Prof.  Daniel  Vaughn  was 
fitted  for  a  scientific  throne,  a  position  of  the  highest  honor ;  but,  neglected  by  man.  proud  as  a 
king,  he  bore  uncomplainingly  privations  most  bitter,  and  suffered  alone  until  finally  he  died 
from  starvation  and  neglect  one  night,  in  the  city  of  his  adoption,  in  a  barren  room,  without 
warmth  or  light.  Some  persons  are  ready  to  crv' "  Shame  !  Shame  !"  at  wealthy  Cincinnati ; 
others  assert  that  men  could  not  give  to  Daniel  Vaughn.  He  would  not  beg,  and  knowing 
his  capacities,  if  he  could  not  procure  a  position  in  which  to  earn  a  living,  he  preferred  to 
starve.  The  only  bitterness  of  his  nature,  it  is  said,  went  out  against  those  who  kept  from 
him  such  employment  as  returns  a  livelihood  to  scientific  men,  for  he  well  knew  his  intellect 
earned  for  him  such  a  right  in  Cincinnati,  and  he  starved  before  he  would  accept  charity. 
Will  the  spirit  of  that  great  man,  talented  Daniel  Vaughn,  bear  malice  against  the  people  of 
the  city  in  which  none  can  truthfully  deny  that  he  perished  from  cold  and  privation  ?  Com- 
memorated is  he  not  by  a  bust  of  bronze  that  distorts  the  facts  in  that  the  garments  are  not 
seedy  and  unkempt,  the  figure  stooping,  the  cheek  hollow  and  the  eye  pitifully  expressive  of 
an  empty  stomach?  That  bust  modestly  rests  in  the  public  library  he  loved  so  welV,  in  which 
he  suffered  so  uncomplainingly,  and  starved  so  patiently.  Pleasing  must  be  the  thought  of 
Cincinnati's  citizens,  as  they  pass  and  repass  that  cold  statue  to  feel  that  this  model  of  Daniel 
Vaughn,  with  sightless  eyes  and  closed  lips,  asks  neither  for  food  nor  warmth.— J.  U.  L. 


THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  PROF.  DANIEL  VAUGHN.  161 

I  embraced  the  first  opportunity  that  presented  itself  to  read 
the  works  that  Prof.  Vaughn  suggested,  and  sought  him  more 
than  once  to  question  further.  However,  he  would  not  commit 
himself  in  regard  to  the  possible  existence  of  other  forces  than 
those  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  and  when  I  interrogated  him 
as  to  possibilities  in  the  study  of  obscure  force  expressions,  he 
declined  to  express  an  opinion  concerning  the  subject.  Indeed, 
I  fancied  that  he  believed  it  probable,  or  at  least  not  impossible, 
that  a  closer  acquaintance  with  conditions  of  matter  and  energy 
might  be  the  heirloom  of  future  scientific  students.  At  last  I 
gave  up  the  subject,  convinced  that  all  the  information  I  was 
able  to  obtain  from  other  persons  whom  I  questioned,  and  whose 
answers  were  prompt  and  positive,  was  evolved  largely  from 
ienorance  and  self-conceit,  and  such  information  was  insufficient 
to  satisfy  my  understanding,  or  to  command  my  attention.  After 
hearing  Vaughn,  all  other  voices  sounded  empty. 

I  therefore  applied  myself  to  my  daily  tasks,  and  awaited  the 
promised  return  of  the  interesting,  though  inscrutible  being 
whose  subterranean  sojourneying  was  possibly  fraught  with  so 
much  potential  value  to  science  and  to  man. 


THE    UNBIDDEN     GUEST    RETURNS    TO    READ    HIS    MANUSCRIPT. 
CONTINUING   HIS   NARRATIVE. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    MOTHER   OF   A   VOLCANO. — "YOU    CAN   NOT   DISPROVE,  AND 
YOU    DARE    NOT    ADMIT." 

A  year  from  the  evening  of  the  departure  of  the  old  man, 
found  me  in  my  room,  expecting  his  presence ;  and  I  was  not 
surprised  when  he  opened  the  door,  and  seated  himself  in  his 
accustomed  chair. 

"Are  you  ready  to  challenge  my  statements?"  he  said,  taking 
up  the  subject  as  though  our  conversation  had  not  been  inter- 
rupted. 

"No." 

"Do  you  accept  my  history?" 

"No." 

"You  can  not  disprove,  and  you  dare  not  admit.  Is  not  that 
your  predicament?"  he  asked.  "You  have  failed  in  every 
endeavor  to  discredit  the  truth,  and  your  would-be  scientists, 
much  as  they  would  like  to  do  so,  can  not  serve  you.  Now  we 
will  continue  the  narrative,  and  I  shall  await  your  next  attempt 
to  cast  a  shadow  over  the  facts." 

Then  with  his  usual  pleasant  smile,  he  read  from  his  manu- 
script a  continuation  of  the  intra-earth  journey  as  follows: 

"  Be  seated,"  said  my  evcless  guide,  "and  I  will  explain  some 
facts  that  may  prove  of  interest  in  connectiou  with  the  nature  of 
the  superficial  crust  of  the  earth.  This  crystal  liquid  spreading 
before  us  is  a  placid  sheet  of  water,  and  is  the  feeder  of  the 
volcano.  Mount  Epomeo." 

"Can  that  be  a  surface  of  water?"  I  interrogated.  "I  find  it 
hard  to  realize  that  water  can  be  so  immovable.  I  supposed  the 
substance  before  us  to  be  a  rigid  material,  like  glass,  perhaps." 

162 


THIC  MOTin';R  OF  A  VOLCANO.  163 

"  There  is  no  wind  to  ruffle  this  aqueous  surface, — why  should 
it  not  be  quiescent  ?  This  is  the  only  perfectly  smooth  sheet  of 
water  that  you  have  ever  seen.  It  is  in  absolute  rest,  and  thus 
appears  a  rigid  level  plane." 

"  Grant  that  your  explanation  is  correct,"  I  said,  "  yet  I  can 
not  understand  how  a  quiet  lake  of  water  can  give  rise  to  a  con- 
vulsion such  as  the  eruption  of  a  volcano." 

"  Not  only  is  this  possible,"  he  responded,  "  but  water  usually 
causes  the  exhibition  of  phenomena  known  as  volcanic  action. 
The  Island  of  Ischia,  in  which  the  volcanic  crater  Epomeo  is 
situated,  is  connected  by  a  tortuous  crevice  with  the  peaceful 
pool  by  which  we  now  stand,  and  at  periods,  separated  by  great 
intervals  of  time,  the  lake  is  partly  emptied  by  a  simple  natural 
process,  and  a  part  of  its  water  is  expelled  above  the  earth's 
surface  in  the  form  of  superheated  steam,  which  escapes  through 
that  distant  crater." 

"  But  I  see  no  evidence  of  heat  or  even  motion  of  any  kind." 

"Not  here,"  he  replied;  "in  this  place  there  is  none.  The 
energy  is  developed  thousands  of  miles  away,  but  since  the 
phenomena  of  volcanic  action  are  to  be  partially  explained  to 
you  at  a  future  day,  I  will  leave  that  matter  for  the  present. 
We  shall  cross  this  lake." 

I  observed  as  we  walked  along  its  edge  that  the  shore  of 
the  lake  was  precipitous  in  places,  again  formed  a  gradually 
descending  beach,  and  the  dead  silence  of  the  space  about  us,  in 
connection  with  the  death-like  stillness  of  that  rigid  mass  of 
water  and  its  surroundings,  became  increasingl)'  impressive  and 
awe-inspiring.  Never  before  had  I  seen  such  a  perfectly  quiet 
glass-like  surface.  Not  a  vibration  or  undulation  appeared  in 
any  direction.  The  solidity  of  steel  was  exemplified  in  its 
steady,  apparently  inflexible  contour,  and  yet  the  pure  element 
was  so  transparent  that  the  bottom  of  the  pool  was  as  clearly 
defined  as  the  top  of  the  cavern  above  me.  The  lights  and 
shades  of  the  familiar  lakes  of  Western  New  York  were  wanting 
here,  and  it  suddenly  came  to  my  mind  that  there  were  surface 
reflections,  but  no  shadows,  and  musing  on  this  extraordinary 
fact,  I  stood  motionless  on  a  jutting  cliff  absorbed  in  meditation, 
abstractedly  gazing  down  into  that  transparent  depth.  Without 
sun  or  moon,  without  apparent  source  of  light,  and  yet  perfectly 


164  ETIDORHPA. 

illuminated,  the  lofty  caverns  seemed  cut  by  that  aqueous  plane 
into  two  sections,  one  above  and  one  below  a  transparent,  rigid 
surface  line.  The  dividing  line,  or  horizontal  plane,  appeared  as 
much  a  surface  of  air  as  a  surface  of  water,  and  the  material 
above  that  plane  seemed  no  more  nor  less  a  gas,  or  liquid,  than 
that  beneath  it.  If  two  limpid,  transparent  liquids,  immiscible, 
but  of  different  gravities,  be  poured  into  the  same  vessel,  the  line 
of  demarkation  will  be  as  a  brilliant  mirror,  such  as  I  now  beheld 
parting  and  yet  uniting  the  surfaces  of  air  and  water. 

Lost  in  contemplation,  I  unconsciously  asked  the  mental 
question : 

"Where  are  the  shadows?" 

]\Iy  guide  replied: 

"  You  have  been  accustomed  to  lakes  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth ;  water  that  is  illuminated  from  above ;  now  you  see  by  a 
light  that  is  developed  from  within  and  below,  as  well  as  from 
above.  There  is  no  outside  point  of  illumination,  for  the  light 
of  this  cavern,  as  you  know,  is  neither  transmitted  through  an 
overlying  atmosphere  nor  radiated  from  a  luminous  center.  It 
is  an  inherent  quality,  and  as  objects  above  us  and  within 
the  lake  are  illuminated  alike  from  all  sides,  there  can  be  na 
shadows." 

Musingly,  I  said : 

"  That  which  has  occurred  before  in  this  journey  to  the 
unknown  country  of  which  I  have  been  advised,  seemed  mys- 
terious ;  but  each  succeeding  step  discovers  to  me  another  novelty 
that  is  more  mysterious,  with  unlooked-for  phenomena  that  are 
more  obscure." 

"  This  phenomenon  is  not  more  of  a  mystery  than  is  the 
fact  that  light  radiates  from  the  sun.  ]\Ian  can  not  explain 
that,  and  I  shall  not  now  attempt  to  explain  this.  Both  condi- 
tions are  attributes  of  force,  but  with  this  distinction — the  crude 
light  and  heat  of  the  sun,  such  as  men  ex^:)erience  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  is  here  refined  and  softened,  and  the 
characteristic  glare  and  harshness  of  the  light  that  is  knowm  to 
those  who  live  on  the  earth's  surface  is  absent  here.  The  solar 
ray,  after  penetrating  the  earth's  crust,  is  tempered  and  refined 
by  agencies  which  man  will  yet  investigate  understandingly,  but 
which  he  can  not  now  comprehend." 


WE    CAME    TO    A    METAL    BOAT." 


THE  MOTHER  OF  A  VOLCANO.  167 

"Am  I  destined  to  deal  with  these  problems?" 

"  Only  in  part." 

"Are  still  greater  wonders  before  us?" 

"  If  your  courage  is  sufficient  to  carry  }'ou  onward,  you  have 
yet  to  enter  the  portal  of  the  expanse  we  approach." 

"  Lead  on,  my  friend,''  I  cried;  "  lead  on  to  these  undescribed 
scenes,  the  occult  wonderland  that" — 

He  interrupted  me  almost  rudely,  and  in  a  serious  manner 
said: 

"  Have  you  not  learned  that  wonder  is  an  exemplification  of 
ignorance?  The  child  wonders  at  a  goblin  story,  the  savage  at 
a  trinket,  the  man  of  science  at  an  unexplained  manifestation 
of  a  previously  unperceived  natural  law;  each  wonders  in 
ignorance,  because  of  ignorance.  Accept  now  that  all  you 
have  seen  from  the  day  of  your  birth  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  to  the  present,  and  all  that  you  will  meet  here  are  won- 
derful only  because  the  finite  mind  of  man  is  confused  with 
fragments  of  evidence,  that,  from  whatever  direction  we  meet 
them,  spring  from  an  unreachable  infinity.  We  will  continue 
our  journey." 

Proceeding  farther  along  the  edge  of  the  lake  we  came  to  a 
metallic  boat.  This  my  guide  picked  up  as  easily  as  though  it 
were  of  paper,  for  be  it  remembered  that  gravitation  had  slack- 
ened its  hold  here.  Placing  it  upon  the  water,  he  stepped  into 
it,  and  as  directed  I  seated  myself  near  the  stern,  my  face  to  the 
bow,  my  back  to  the  shore.  The  guide,  directly  in  front  of  me, 
gently  and  very  slowly  moved  a  small  lever  that  rested  on  a 
projection  before  him,  and  I  gazed  intently  upon  him  as  we  sat 
together  in  silence.  At  last  I  became  impatient,  and  asked  him 
if  we  would  not  soon  begin  our  journey. 

"We  have  been  on  our  way  since  we  have  been  seated,"  he 
answered. 

I  gazed  behind  with  incredulity :  the  shore  had  disappeared, 
and  the  diverging  wake  of  the  ripples  showed  that  we  were 
rapidly  skimming  the  water. 

"This  is  marvelous,"  I  said;  "  incomprehensible,  for  without 
sail  or  oar,  wind  or  steam,  we  are  fleeing  over  a  lake  that  has 
no  current." 


168  ETIDORHPA. 

"  True,  but  not  marvelous.  Motion  of  matter  is  a  result  of 
disturbance  of  energy  connected  therewith.  Is  it  not  scientific- 
ally demonstrated,  at  least  in  theor\-,  that  if  the  motion  of  the 
spirit  that  causes  the  magnetic  needle  to  assume  its  familiar 
position  were  really  arrested  in  the  substance  of  the  needle, 
either  the  metal  would  fuse  and  vaporize  or  (if  the  forces  did  not 
appear  in  some  other  form  such  as  heat,  electricity,  magnetism, 
or  other  force)  the  needle  would  be  hurled  onward  with  great 
speed?" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MOTION    FROM    INHERENT    ENERGY, — "LEAD   ME    DEEPER   INTO 
THIS   EXPANDING   STUDY." 

"  I  partly  comprehend  that  such  would  be  the  case,"  I  said. 

"  If  a  series  of  knife  blades  on  pivot  ends  be  set  in  a  frame, 
and  turned  edgewise  to  a  rapid  current  of  water,  the  swiftly 
moving  stream  flows  through  this  sieve  of  metallic  edges  about 
as  easily  as  if  there  were  no  obstructions.  Slowly  turn  the 
blades  so  as  to  present  their  oblique  sides  to  the  current,  and  an 
immediate  pressure  is  apparent  upon  the  frame  that  holds  them  ; 
turn  the  blades  so  as  to  shut  up  the  space,  and  they  will  be  torn 
from  their  sockets,  or  the  entire  frame  will  be  shattered  into 
pieces." 

"  I  understand ;  goon." 

"The  ethereal  current  that  generates  the  magnetic  force 
passes  through  material  bodies  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  and 
the  molecules  of  a  few  substances  only,  present  to  it  the  least 
obstruction.  Material  molecules  are  edgewise  in  it,  and  meet 
no  retardation  in  the  subtle  flood.  This  force  is  a  disturbance 
of  space  energy  that  is  rushing  into  the  earth  in  one  form,  and 
out  of  it  in  another.  But  your  mind  is  not  yet  in  a  condition  to 
grasp  the  subject,  for  at  best  there  is  no  method  of  explaining 
to  men  that  which  their  experimental  education  has  failed  to 
prepare  them  to  receive,  and  for  which  first  absolutely  new 
ideas,  and  next  words  with  new  meaning,  must  be  formed.  Now 
we,  (by  we  I  mean  those  with  whom  I  am  connected)  have 
learned  to  disturb  the  molecules  in  matter  so  as  to  turn  them 
partly,  or  entirely,  across  the  path  of  this  magnetic  current,  and 
thus  interrupt  the  motion  of  this  ever-present  energy.  We  can 
retard  its  velocity  without,  however,  producing  either  magnetism 
(as  is  the  case  in  a  bar  of  steel),  electricity,  or  heat,  but  motion 
instead,  and  thus  a  portion  of  this  retarded  energy  springs  into 
its  new  existence  as  motion  of  my  boat.     It  is  force  changed 


170  ETIDORHPA. 

into  movement  of  matter,  for  the  molecules  of  the  boat,  as  a 
mass,  must  move  onward  as  the  force  disappears  as  a  current. 
Perhaps  you  can  accept  now  that  instead  of  light,  heat,  elec- 
tricity, magnetism,  and  gravitation  being  really  modifications  of 
force  they  are  disturbances." 

"Disturbances  of  what?" 

"  Disturbances  of  motion." 

"Motion  of  what?" 

"  Motion  of  itself,  pure  and  simple." 

"  I  can  not  comprehend,  I  can  not  conceive  of  motion  pure 
and  simple." 

"  I  will  explain  at  a  future  time  so  that  you  can  comprehend 
more  clearly.  Other  lessons  must  come  first,  but  never  will  you 
see  the  end.     Truth  is  infinite." 

Continuing,  he  said : 

"  Let  me  ask  if  there  is  anything  marvelous  in  this  statement. 
On  the  earth's  surface  men  arrest  the  fitful  wind,  and  by  so 
doing  divert  the  energy  of  its  motion  into  movement  of 
machinery ;  they  induce  it  to  turn  mills  and  propel  vessels. 
This  motion  of  air  is  a  disturbance,  mass  motion  transmitted  to 
the  air  by  heat,  heat  in  turn  being  a  disturbance  or  interruption 
of  pure  motion.  WTien  men  learn  to  interrupt  this  unperceived 
stream  of  energy  so  as  to  change  directly  into  material  motion 
the  spirit  that  saturates  the  universe,  and  that  produces  force 
expressions,  as  it  is  constantly  rushing  from  earth  into  space,  and 
from  space  back  again,  they  will  have  at  command  wherever 
they  may  be  an  endless  source  of  power,  light,  and  heat ;  mass 
motion,  light  and  heat  being  convertible.  Motion  lies  behind 
heat,  light,  and  electricity,  and  produces  them,  and  so  long  as 
the  earth  revolves  on  its  axis,  and  circles  in  its  orbit,  man  needs 
no  light  and  heat  from  such  indirect  sources  as  combustion. 
Men  will,  however,  yet  obtain  motion  of  molecules  (heat),  and 
material  mass  motion  as  well,  from  earth  motion,  without  the 
other  dangerous  intermediate  force  expressions  now  deemed 
necessary  in  their  production." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  understand  that  on  all  parts  of  the 
earth's  surface  there  is  a  continual  expenditure  of  energy,  an 
ever-ready  current,  that  is  really  distinct  from  the  light  and 
heat  of  the  sun,  and  also  that  the  imponderable  bodies  that  we 


MOTION  FROM  INHERENT  ENERGY.  171 

call  heat,  light,  electricity,  and  magnetism  are  not  substances 
at  all?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  And  that  this  imperceptible  something — fluid  I  will  say,  for 
want  of  a  better  term — now  invisible  and  unknown  to  man,  is  as 
a  medium  in  which  the  earth,  submerged,  floats  as  a  speck  of 
dust  in  a  flood  of  space?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied. 

"  Am  I  to  infer  from  your  remarks  that,  in  the  course  of  time, 
man  will  be  able  to  economize  this  force,  and  adapt  it  to  his 
wants?" 

"Yes." 

"  Go  on  with  your  exposition,  I  again  beg  of  you ;  lead  me 
deeper  into  this  expanding  study." 

"  There  is  but  little  more  that  you  can  comprehend  now,  as 
I  have  said,"  he  answered.  "All  materials  known  to  man  are  of 
coarse  texture,  and  the  minds  of  men  are  not  yet  in  a  condition 
to  comprehend  finer  exhibitions  of  force,  or  of  motion  modifi- 
cations. Pure  energy,  in  all  its  modifications,  is  absolutely 
unknown  to  man.  What  men  call  heat,  gravitation,  light, 
electricity,  and  magnetism  are  the  grosser  attributes  attending 
alterations  in  an  unknown,  attenuated,  highly  developed  force 
producer.  They  are  results,  not  causes.  The  real  force,  an 
unreached  energy,  is  now  flooding  all  space,  pervading  all 
materials.  Everywhere  there  exists  an  infinite  sea  of  motion 
absolute.  Since  this  primeval  entity  can  not  now  afi'ect  matter, 
as  matter  is  known  to  man,  man's  sense  can  only  be  influenced  by 
secondary  attributes  of  this  energy.  Unconscious  of  its  all-per- 
vading presence,  however,  man  is  working  towards  the  power  that 
will  some  day,  upon  the  development  of  latent  senses,  open  to  him 
this  new  world.  Then  at  last  he  will  move  without  muscular 
exertion,  or  the  use  of  heat  as  an  agent  of  motion,  and  will,  as 
as  I  am  now  doing,  bridle  the  motion  of  space.  Wlierever  he 
may  be  situated,  there  will  then  be  warmth  to  any  degree  that  he 
wishes,  for  he  will  be  able  to  temper  the  seasons,  and  mass  motion 
illimitable,  also,  for  this  energy,  I  reiterate,  is  omnipresent. 
However,  as  you  will  know  more  of  this  before  long,  we  will 
pass  the  subject  for  the  present." 


172  KTIIJORHPA. 

My  jyuide  slowly  moved  the  lever.  I  sat  in  deep  reflection, 
beginning  to  comprehend  somewhat  of  his  reasoning,  and  yet  my 
mind  was  more  than  clouded.  The  several  ambiguous  repeti- 
tions he  had  made  since  our  journey  commenced,  each  time 
suggesting  the  same  idea,  clothing  it  in  different  forms  of 
expression,  impressed  me  vaguely  with  the  conception  of  a 
certain  something  for  which  I  was  gradually  being  prepared, 
and  that  I  might  eventually  be  educated  to  grasp,  but  which  he 
believed  my  mind  was  not  yet  ready  to  receive.  I  gathered 
from  what  he  said  that  he  could  have  given  clearer  explanations 
than  he  was  now  doing,  and  that  he  clothed  his  language  inten- 
tionally in  m)-sticism,  and  that,  for  some  reason,  he  preferred  to 
leave  my  mind  in  a  condition  of  uncertainty.  The  velocity  of 
the  boat  increased  as  he  again  and  again  cautiously  touched  the 
lever,  and  at  last  the  responsive  craft  rose  nearly  out  of  the 
water,  and  skimmed  like  a  bird  over  its  surface.  There  was  no 
object  in  that  lake  of  pure  crystal  to  govern  me  in  calculating 
as  to  the  rapidity  of  our  motion,  and  I  studied  to  evolve  a 
method  by  which  I  could  time  our  movements.  With  this 
object  in  view  I  tore  a  scrap  from  my  clothing  and  tossed  it  into 
the  air.  It  fell  at  my  feet  as  if  in  a  calm.  There  was  no  breeze. 
I  picked  the  fragment  up,  in  bewilderment,  for  I  had  expected 
it  to  fall  behind  us.  Then  it  occurred  to  me,  as  by  a  flash,  that 
notwithstanding  our  apparently  rapid  motion,  there  was  an 
entire  absence  of  atmospheric  resistance.  What  could  explain 
the  paradox  ?  I  turned  to  my  guide  and  again  tossed  the  frag- 
ment of  cloth  upward,  and  again  it  settled  at  my  feet.  He 
smiled,  and  answered  my  silent  inquiry. 

"  There  is  a  protecting  sheet  before  us,  radiating,  fan-like,  from 
the  bow  of  our  boat  as  if  a  large  pane  of  glass  w^ere  resting  on  edge, 
thus  shedding  the  force  of  the  wind.  This  diaphragm  catches 
the  attenuated  atmosphere  and  protects  us  from  its  friction." 

"  But  I  see  no  such  protecting  object,"  I  answered. 

"  No ;  it  is  invisible.  You  can  not  see  the  obstructing  power,  for 
it  is  really  a  gyrating  section  of  force,  and  is  colorless.  That  spray 
of  metal  on  the  brow  of  our  boat  is  the  developer  of  this  protect- 
ing medium.  Imagine  a  transverse  section  of  an  eddy  of  water 
on  edge  before  us,  and  you  can  form  a  comparison.  Throw  the 
bit  of  garment  as  far  as  you  can  beyond  the  side  of  the  boat." 


MOTION  FROM  INHERENT  ENERGY. 


173 


I  did  so,  and  saw  it  flutter  slowly  away  to  a  considerable 
distance  parallel  with  our  position  in  the  boat  as  though  in  a 
perfect  calm,  and  then  it  disappeared.  It  seemed  to  have  been 
dissolved.     I  gazed  at  my  guide  in  amazement. 

"Try  again,"  said  he. 


"  THE    BIT    OF    GARMENT    FLUTTERED    LISTI^ESSLY    AWAY    TO    THE    SAME 
DISTANCE,    AND   THEN — VACANCY." 


I  tore  another  and  a  larger  fragment  from  my  coat  sleeve.  I 
fixed  my  eyes  closely  upon  it,  and  cast  it  from  me.  The  bit  of 
garment  fluttered  listlessly  away  to  the  same  distance,  and 
then — vacancy.  Wonders  of  wonderland,  mysteries  of  the 
mysterious!  What  would  be  the  end  of  this  marvelous  journey  ? 
Suspicion  again  possessed  me,  and  distrust  arose.  Could  not 
my  self-existence  be  blotted  out  in  like  manner?  I  thought 
again  of  my  New  York  home,  and  the  recollection  of  upper 
earth,  and  those  broken  family  ties  brought  to  my  heart  a  flood 
of  bitter  emotions.  I  inwardly  cursed  the  writer  of  that 
alchemistic  letter,  and  cursed  myself  for  heeding  the  contents. 


174  KTinORHPA. 

The  tears  gushed  from  my  eyes  and  trickled  through  my  fingers 
as  I  covered  in\-  face  with  my  hands  and  groaned  aloud.  Then, 
with  a  gentle  touch,  my  guide's  hand  rested  on  my  shoulder. 

"Calm  yourself,"  he  said;  "this  phenomenon  is  a  natural 
sequence  to  a  deeper  study  of  nature  than  man  has  reached.  It 
is  simply  the  result  of  an  exhibition  of  rapid  motion.  You  are 
upon  a  great  underground  lake,  that,  on  a  shelf  of  earth  sub- 
stance one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  below  the  earth's  surface, 
covers  an  area  of  many  thousand  square  miles,  and  which  has  an 
average  depth  of  five  miles.  We  are  now  crossing  it  diagonally 
at  a  rapid  rate  by  the  aid  of  the  force  that  man  will  yet  use  in 
a  perfectly  natural  manner  on  the  rough  upper  ocean  and  bleak 
lands  of  the  earth's  coarse  surface.  The  fragments  of  cloth 
disappeared  from  sight  when  thrown  beyond  the  influence  of 
our  protecting  diaphragm,  because  when  they  struck  the  outer 
motionless  atmosphere  they  were  instantly  left  behind ;  the  eye 
could  not  catch  their  sudden  change  in  motion.  A  period  of 
time  is  necessary  to  convey  from  eye  to  mind  the  sensation  of 
sight.  The  bullet  shot  from  a  gun  is  invisible  by  reason  of  the 
fact  that  the  eye  can  not  discern  the  momentary  interruption  to 
the  light.  A  cannon  ball  will  compass  the  field  of  vision  of  the 
eve,  moving  across  it  without  making  itself  known,  and  yet  the 
fact  does  not  excite  surprise.  We  are  traveling  so  fast  that 
small,  stationary  objects  outside  our  track  are  invisible." 

Then  in  a  kind,  pathetic  tone  of  voice,  he  said : 

"  An  important  lesson  you  should  learn,  I  have  mentioned  it 
before.  Whatever  seems  to  be  mysterious,  or  marvelous,  is  only 
so  because  of  the  lack  of  knowledge  of  associated  natural 
phenomena  and  connected  conditions.  All  that  you  have 
experienced,  all  that  you  have  yet  to  meet  in  your  future 
journey,  is  as  I  have  endeavored  to  teach  you,  in  exact  accord- 
ance with  the  laws  that  govern  the  universe,  of  which  the  earth 
constitutes  so  small  a  portion  that,  were  the  conditions  favorable, 
it  could  be  blotted  from  its  present  existence  as  quickly  as  that 
bit  of  garment  disappeared,  and  with  as  little  disturbance  of  the 
mechanism  of  the  moving  universe." 

I  leaned  over,  resting  my  face  upon  my  elbow ;  my  thoughts 
were  immethodically  wandering  in  the  midst  of  multiplying 
perplexities ;  I  closed  my  eyes  as  a  weary  child,  and  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SLEEP,     DREAMS,    NIGHTMARE.  —  "STRANGLE    THE    LIFE    FROM 

MY    BODY." 

I  know  not  how  long  I  sat  wrapped  in  slumber.  Even  if 
my  body  had  not  been  wearing  away  as  formerly,  m}-  mind  had 
become  excessively  wearied.  I  had  existed  in  a  state  of  abnor- 
mal mental  intoxication  far  beyond  the  period  of  accustomed 
wakefulness,  and  had  taxed  my  mental  organization  beyond 
endurance.  In  the  midst  of  events  of  the  most  startling 
description,  I  had  abruptly  passed  into  what  was  at  its  com- 
mencement the  sweetest  sleep  of  my  recollection,  but  which 
came  to  a  horrible  termination. 

In  my  dream  I  was  transported  once  more  to  my  native  land, 
and  roamed  in  freedom  throughout  the  streets  of  my  lost  home. 
I  lived  over  again  my  early  life  in  Virginia,  and  I  seemed 
to  have  lost  all  recollection  of  the  weird  journey  which  I  had 
lately  taken.  My  subsequent  connection  with  the  brother- 
hood of  alchemists,  and  the  unfortunate  letter  that  led  to  my 
present  condition,  were  forgotten.  There  came  no  thought 
suggestive  of  the  train  of  events  that  are  here  chronicled, 
and  as  a  child  I  tasted  again  the  pleasures  of  innocence,  the 
joys  of  boyhood. 

Then  my  dream  of  childhood  vanished,  and  the  scenes  of 
later  days  spread  themselves  before  me.  I  saw,  after  a  time, 
the  scenes  of  my  later  life,  as  though  I  viewed  them  from  a 
distance,  and  was  impressed  with  the  idea  that  they  were  not 
real,  but  only  the  fragments  of  a  dream.  I  shuddered  in  mv 
childish  dreamland,  and  trembled  as  a  child  would  at  con- 
fronting events  of  the  real  life  that  I  had  passed  through  on 
€arth,  and  that  gradually  assuming  the  shape  of  man  approached 
and  stood  before  me,  a  hideous  specter  seemingly  ready  to  absorb 
me.  The  peaceful  child  in  which  I  existed  shrunk  back,  and 
recoiled  from  the  approaching  living  man. 


176  ETinORHPA. 

"  Away,  away,"  I  cried,  "  yon  shall  not  grasp  me,  I  do  not 
wish  to  become  a  man ;  this  can  not,  mn'st  not  be  the  horrible 
end  to  a  sweet  existence." 

Gradually  the  Man  Life  approached,  seized  and  enveloped 
me,  closing  around  me  as  a  jelly  fish  surrounds  its  living  victim, 
while  the  horrors  of  a  nightmare  came  over  my  soul. 

"Man's  life  is  a  fearful  dream,"  I  shouted,  as  I  writhed  in 
agony;  "I  am  still  a  child,  and  will  remain  one;  keep  off!  Life 
of  man,  away!  let  me  live  and  die  a  child." 

The  Specter  of  Man's  Life  seized  me  more  firmly  as  1 
struggled  to  escape,  and  holding  me  in  its  irresistible  clutch 
absorbed  my  substance  as  a  vampire  might  suck  the  blood  of 
an  infant,  and  while  the  childish  dream  disappeared  in  that 
hideous  embrace,  the  miserable  man  awoke. 

I  found  myself  on  land.  The  guide,  seated  at  mv  side, 
remarked : 

"  You  have  slept." 

"I  have  lived  again,"  I  said  in  bitterness. 

"You  have  not  lived  at  all  as  yet,"  he  replied;  "life  is  a 
dream,  usually  it  is  an  unsatisfied  nightmare." 

"  Then  let  me  dream  again  as  at  the  beginning  of  this  slum- 
ber," I  said ;  "  and  while  I  dream  as  a  child,  do  you  strangle  the 
life  from  my  body, — spare  me  the  nightmare,  I  would  not  live  to 
reach  the  Life  of  Man." 

"This  is  sarcasm,"  he  replied;  "you  are  as  changeable  as 
the  winds  of  the  earth's  surface.  Now  as  you  are  about  to 
approach  a  part  of  our  journey  where  fortitude  is  necessary, 
behold,  you  waver  as  a  little  child  might.  Nerve  yourself;  the 
trials  of  the  present  require  a  steady  mind,  let  the  future  care 
for  itself;  you  can  not  recall  the  past." 

I  became  attentive  again ;  the  depressing  effects  of  that 
repulsive  dream  rapidly  lifted,  and  wasted  away,  as  I  realized 
that  I  was  a  man,  and  was  destined  to  see  more  than  can  be  seen 
in  the  future  of  other  mortals.  This  elevation  of  my  spirit  was 
evidently  understood  by  my  guide.  He  turned  to  the  lake,  and 
pointing  to  its  quiet  bosom,  remarked  : 

"  For  five  hours  we  have  journcNed  over  this  sheet  of  water  at 
the  average  rate  of  nine  hundred  miles  an  hour.  At  the  time 
you  threw  the  fragments  of  cloth  overboard,  we  were  traveling 


vSI.EEP,  DREAMS,  NIGHTMARE.  177 

at  a  speed  of  not  less  than  twenty  miles  per  minute.  You 
remember  that  some  hours  ago  you  criticised  my  assertion  when 
I  said  that  we  would  soon  be  near  the  axis  of  the  earth  beneath 
the  North  Pole,  and  now  we  are  beyond  that  point,  and  are 
about  six  thousand  miles  from  where  we  stood  at  that  time." 

"You  must  have  your  way,"  I  replied;  "I  can  not  disprove 
your  assertion,  but  were  it  not  that  I  have  passed  through  so 
many  marvelous  experiences  since  first  we  met,  I  would  question 
the  reliability  of  your  information." 

My  guide  continued : 

"  The  surface  of  this  lake  lies  as  a  mirror  beneath  both  the 
ocean  and  the  land.  The  force  effect  that  preserves  the  configu- 
ration of  the  ocean  preserves  the  form  of  this  also,  but  influences 
it  to  a  less  extent,  and  the  two  surfaces  lie  nearly  parallel  with 
each  other,  this  one  being  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  earth.  The  shell  of  the  earth  above  us  is 
honeycombed  by  caverns  in  some  places,  in  others  it  is  compact, 
and  yet,  in  most  places,  is  impervious  to  water.  At  the  farther 
extremity  of  the  lake,  a  stratum  of  porous  material  extends 
through  the  space  intervening  between  the  bottom  of  the  oceau 
and  this  lake.  By  capillary  attraction,  assisted  by  gravitation,, 
part  of  the  water  of  the  ocean  is  being  transferred  through 
this  stratum  to  the  underground  cavity.  The  lake  is  slowly 
rising." 

At  this  remark  I  interrupted  him  :  "You  say  the  water  in  the 
ocean  is  being  slowly  transferred  down  to  this  underground  lake 
less  by  gravity  than  by  capillarity." 

"Yes." 

"I  believe  that  I  have  reason  to  question  that  statement,  if 
you  do  not  include  the  salt,"  I  replied. 

"  Pray  state  your  objections." 

I  answered  :  "  Whether  a  tube  be  long  or  short,  if  it  penetrate 
the  bottom  of  a  vessel  of  brine,  and  extend  downward,  the  brine 
will  flow  into  and  out  of  it  by  reason  of  its  weight." 

"You  mistake,"  he  asserted;  "the  attraction  of  the  sides  of 
the  capillary  tube,  if  the  tube  is  long  enough,  will  eventually 
separate  the  water  from  the  salt,  and  at  length  a  downward  flow 
of  water  only  will  result." 

I  again  expressed  my  incredulity. 

»3 


178  ETIDORHPA. 

"  ]\Iore  than  this,  by  perfectly  natural  laws  the  water  that  is 
freed  from  the  tubes  might  again  force  itself  upward  perfectly 
fresh,  to  the  surface  of  the  earth — yes,  under  proper  conditions, 
above  the  surface  of  the  ocean." 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool?"  I  said.  "Is  it  not  self-evident 
that  a  fountain  can  not  rise  above  its  source?" 

"  It  often  does,"  he  answered. 

"  You  trifle  with  me,"  I  said,  acrimoniously. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  I  am  telling  you  the  truth.  Have  you 
never  heard  of  what  men  call  artesian  wells  ?" 

"Yes,  and"  (here  I  attempted  in  turn  to  become  sarcastic) 
"have  you  never  learned  that  they  are  caused  by  water  flowing 
into  crevices  in  ujDlands  where  layers  of  stone  or  of  clay  strata 
separated  by  sand  or  gravel  slant  upward.  The  water  conducted 
thence  by  these  channels  afterwards  springs  up  in  the  valleys  to 
which  it  has  been  carried  by  means  of  the  crevices  in  these 
strata,  but  it  never  rises  above  its  source." 

To  my  surprise  he  answered : 

"This  is  another  of  man's  scientific  speculations,  based  on 
some  facts,  it  is  true,  and  now  and  then  correct,  but  not  invaria- 
bly. The  water  of  an  artesian  well  on  an  elevated  plane  may 
flow  into  the  earth  from  a  creek,  pond,  or  river,  that  is  lower 
than  the  mouth  of  the  well  it  feeds,  and  still  it  may  spout  into 
the  air  from  either  a  near  or  distant  elevation  that  is  higher  than 
its  source." 

"I  can  not  admit  the  truth  of  this,"  I  said ;  "  I  am  willing  to 
listen  to  reason,  but  such  statements  as  these  seem  altogether 
absurd." 

"As  you  please,"  he  replied;  "we  will  continue  our  journey." 


INTERLUDE.-THE  STORY  INTERRUPTED. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   CHALLENGE. — MY   UNBIDDEN   GUEST   ACCEPTS   IT. 

The  white-haired  reader,  in  whom  I  had  now  become  deeply- 
interested,  no  longer  an  unwelcome  stranger,  suspended  his  read- 
ing, laid  down  his  manuscript,  and  looking  me  in  the  face,  asked : 

"Are  you  a  believer?" 

"No,"  I  promptly  answered. 

"What  part  of  the  narrative  do  you  question?" 

"All  of  it." 

"  Have  you  not  already  investigated  some  of  the  statements 
I  previously  made?"  he  queried. 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "but  you  had  not  then  given  utterance  to 
such  preposterous  expressions." 

"Is  not  the  truth,  the  truth?"  he  answered. 

"  You  ask  me  to  believe  impossibilities,"  I  replied. 

"  Name  one." 

"You  yourself  admit,"  I  said  warmly,  "  that  you  were  incred- 
ulous, and  shook  your  head  when  your  guide  asserted  that  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean  might  be  as  porous  as  a  sieve,  and  still  hold 
water.     A  fountain  can  not  rise  above  its  source." 

"  It  often  does,  however,"  he  replied. 

"  I  do  not  believe  you,"  I  said  boldly.  "And,  furthermore,  I 
assert  that  you  might  as  reasonably  ask  me  to  believe  that  I  can 
see  my  own  brain,  as  to  accept  your  fiction  regarding  the  produc- 
tion of  light,  miles  below  the  surface  of  the  earth." 

"  I  can  make  your  brain  visible  to  you,  and  if  you  dare  to 
accompany  me,  I  will  carry  you  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
earth  and  prove  my  other  statement,"  he  said.  "Come!"  He 
arose  and  grasped  my  arm. 

I  hesitated. 

179 


180  KTIDORHI'A. 

"You  confess  that  you  fear  the  journey." 

I  made  no  reply. 

"Well,  since  you  fear  that  method,  I  am  ready  to  convince 
you  of  the  facts  by  any  rational  course  you  may  select,  and  if 
you  wish  to  stake  your  entire  argument  on  the  general  statement 
that  a  stream  of  water  can  not  rise  above  its  head,  I  will  accept 
the  challenge;  but  I  insist  that  you  do  not  divulge  the  nature 
of  the  experiment  until,  as  you  are  directed,  you  make  public 
my  story." 

"Of  course  a  fluid  can  be  pumped  up,''  I  sarcastically 
observed.     "  However,  I  promise  the  secrecy  you  ask." 

"  I  am  speaking  seriously,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  accepted 
your  challenge ;  your  own  eyes  shall  view  the  facts,  your  own 
hands  prepare  the  conditions  necessary.  Procure  a  few  pints  of 
sand,  and  a  few  pounds  of  salt;  to-morrow  evening  I  will  be 
ready  to  make  the  experiment." 

"Agreed;  if  you  will  induce  a  stream  of  water  to  run  up 
hill,  a  fountain  to  rise  above  its  head,  I  will  believe  any  state- 
ment you  may  henceforth  make." 

"  Be  ready,  then,"  he  replied,  "  and  procure  the  materials 
named."    So  saying  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  abruptly  departed. 

These  substances  I  purchased  the  next  day,  procuring  the  sil- 
ver sand  from  Gordon's  pharmacy,  corner  of  Eighth  and  Western 
Row,  and  promptly  at  the  specified  time  we  met  in  my  room. 

He  came,  provided  with  a  cylindrical  glass  jar  about  eighteen 
inches  high  .and  two  inches  in  diameter  (such  as  I  have  since 
learned  is  called  a  hych-ometer  jar),  and  a  long,  slender  drawn 
glass  tube,  the  internal  diameter  of  which  was  about  one-six- 
teenth of  an  inch. 

"You  have  deceived  me,"  I  said;  "I  know  well  enough  that 
capillary  attraction  will  draw  a  liquid  above  its  surface.  You 
demonstrated  that  quite  recently  to  my  entire  satisfaction." 

"True,  and  yet  not  true  of  this  experiment,"  he  said.  "I 
propose  to  force  water  through  and  out  of  this  tube;  capillary 
attraction  will  not  expel  a  liquid  from  a  tube  if  its  mouth  be 
above  the  surface  of  the  supply." 

He  dipped  the  tip  of  a  capillary  tube  into  a  tumbler  of  water; 
the  water  rose  inside  the  tube  about  an  inch  above  the  surface  of 
the  water  in  the  tumbler. 


A  CHALLENGE.  181 

"  Capillary  attraction  can  do  no  more,"  he  said.  "  Break 
the  tube  one-eighth  of  an  inch  above  the  water  (far  below  the 
present  capillary  surface),  and  it  will  not  overflow.  The  exit  of 
the  tube  must  be  lower  than  the  surface  of  the  liquid  if  circulation 
ensues." 

He  broke  off  a  fragment,  and  the  result  was  as  predicted. 

Then  he  poured  water  into  the  glass  jar  to  the  depth  of  about 
six  inches,  and  selecting  a  piece  of  very  thin  muslin,  about  an 
inch  square,  turned  it  over  the  end  of  the  glass  tube,  tied  it  in 
position,  and  dropped  that  end  of  the  tube  into  the  cylinder. 

"The  muslin  simply  prevents  the  tube  from  filling  with 
sand,"  he  explained.  Then  he  poured  sand  into  the  cylinder 
until  it  reached  the  surface  of  the  water,     (See  Figure  23.) 

"Your  apparatus  is  simple  enough,"  I  remarked,  I  am  afraid 
with  some  sarcasm. 

"Nature  works  with  exceeding  simplicity,"  he  replied; 
"  there  is  no  complex  apparatus  in  her  laboratory,  and  I  copy 
after  nature." 

Then  he  dissolved  the  salt  in  a  portion  of  water  that  he  drew 
from  the  hydrant  into  my  wash  bowl,  making  a  strong  brine, 
and  stirred  sand  into  the  brine  to  make  a  thick  mush.  This 
mixture  of  sand  and  brine  he  then  poured  into  the  cylinder, 
filling  it  nearly  to  the  top.  (See  Figure  23,  B.  The  sand  settling 
soon  left  a  layer  of  brine  above  it,  as  shown  by  A.)  I  had 
previously  noticed  that  the  upper  end  of  the  glass  tube  w^as 
curved,  and  my  surprise  can  be  imagined  when  I  saw  that  at 
once  water  began  to  flow  through  the  tube,  dropping  quite 
rapidly  into  the  cylinder.  The  lower  end  of  the  curve  of  the 
glass  tube  was  fully  half  an  inch  above  the  surface  of  the  liquid 
in  the  cylinder. 

I  here  present  a  figure  of  the  apparatus.     (Figure  23.) 

The  strange  man,  or  man  image,  I  do  not  know  which,  sat 
before  me,  and  in  silence  we  watched  the  steady  flow  of  water, 
water  rising  above  its  surface  and  flowing  into  the  reservoir 
from  which  it  was  being  continually  derived. 

"Do  you  give  up?"  he  asked. 

"  Let  me  think,"  I  said. 

"  As  you  please,"  he  replied. 

"How  long  will  this  continue?"  I  inquired. 


182 


ETIDORHPA. 


"  Until  strong  salt  water  flows  from  the  tnbe." 
Then  the  old  man  continued : 

"  I  would  suggest  that  after  I  depart  you  repeat  these  experi- 
ments. The  observations  of  those  interested  in  science  must 
be  repeated  time  and  again  by  separate  individ- 
uals. It  is  not  sufficient  that  one  person  should 
observe  a  phenomenon  ;  repeated  experiments  are 
necessary  in  order  to  overcome  error  of  manipula- 
tion, and  to  convince  others  of  their  correctness. 
Not  only  yourself,  but  many  others,  after  this 
manuscript  appears,  should  go  through  with 
similar  investigations,  varied  in  detail  as  mind 
expansion  may  suggest.  This  experiment  is  but 
the  germ  of  a  thought  which  will  be  enlarged 
upon  by  many  minds  under  other  conditions.  An 
^^  event  meteorological  may  occur  in  the  experience 
of  one  observer,  and  never  repeat  itself.  This  is 
possible.  The  results  of  such  experiments  as  you 
are  observing,  however,  must  be  followed  by  sim- 
ilar results  in  the  hands  of  others,  and  in  behalf 
of  science  it  is  necessary  that  others  should  be  able 
to  verify  your  experience.  In  the  time  to  come  it  will  be 
necessary  to  support  your  statements  in  order  to  demonstrate 
that  your  perceptive  faculties  are  now  in  a  normal  condition. 
Are  you  sure  that  your  conceptions  of  these  results  are  justified 
by  normal  perception?  May  you  not  be  in  an  exalted  state  of 
mind  that  hinders  clear  perception,  and  compels  you  to  imagine 
and  accept  as  fact  that  which  does  not  exist?  Do  you  see  what 
you  think  you  see?  After  I  am  gone,  and  the  influences  that 
my  person  and  mind  exert  on  your  own  mind  have  been 
removed,  will  these  results,  as  shown  by  my  experiments,  follow 
similar  experimental  conditions?  In  the  years  that  are  to  pass 
before  this  paper  is  to  be  made  public,  it  will  be  your  duty  to 
verify  your  present  sense  faculty.  This  you  must  do  as  oppor- 
tunities present,  and  with  different  devices,  so  that  no  question 
may  arise  as  to  what  will  follow  when  others  repeat  our 
experiments.  To-morrow  evening  I  will  call  again,  but  remem- 
ber, you  must  not  tell  others  of  this  experiment,  nor  show  the 
devices  to  them." 


Fig.  23. 

A,  brine. 

B,  sand  and  brine 
mixed. 

C,  sand  and  water. 


A  CHALLENGE.  183 

"I  have  promised,"  I  answered. 

He  gathered  his  manuscript  and  departed,  and  I  sat  in  med- 
itation watching  the  mysterious  fountain. 

As  he  had  predicted,  finally,  after  a  long  time,  the  flow 
slackened,  and  by  morning,  when  I  arose  from  my  bed,  the 
water  had  ceased  to  drip,  and  then  I  found  it  salty  to  the  taste. 

The  next  evening  he  appeared  as  usual,  and  prepared  to 
resume  his  reading,  making  no  mention  of  the  previous  test  of 
my  faith.  I  interrupted  him,  however,  by  saying  that  I  had 
observed  that  the  sand  had  settled  in  the  cylinder,  and  that  in 
my  opinion  his  experiment  was  not  true  to  appearances,  but  was 
a  deception,  since  the  sand  by  its  greater  weight  displaced  the 
water,  which  escaped  through  the  tube,  where  there  was  least 
resistance. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  and  so  you  refuse  to  believe  your  own 
eyesight,  and  are  contriving  to  escape  the  deserved  penalty ;  I 
will,  however,  acquiesce  in  your  outspoken  desire  for  further 
light,  and  repeat  the  experiment  without  using  sand.  But  I  tell 
you  that  mother  earth,  in  the  phenomena  known  as  artesian 
wells,  uses  sand  and  clay,  pools  of  mineral  waters  of  different 
gravities,  and  running  streams.  The  waters  beneath  the  earth 
are  under  pressure,  induced  by  such  natural  causes  as  I  have 
presented  you  in  miniature,  the  chief  difference  being  that  the 
supplies  of  both  salt  and  fresh  water  are  inexhaustible,  and  by 
natural  combinations  similar  to  what  you  have  seen  ;  the  streams 
within  the  earth,  if  a  pipe  be  thrust  into  them,  may  rise  contin- 
uously, eternally,  from  a  reservoir  higher  than  the  head.  In 
addition,  there  are  pressures  of  gases,  and  solutions  of  many 
salts,  other  than  chloride  of  soda,  that  tend  to  favor  the  phe- 
nomenon. You  are  unduly  incredulous,  and  you  ask  of  me  more 
than  your  right  after  staking  your  faith  on  an  experiment  of 
your  own  selection.  You  demand  more  of  me  even  than  nature 
often  accomplishes  in  earth  structure ;  but  to-morrow  night  I 
will  show  you  that  this  seemingly  impossible  feat  is  possible." 

He  then  abruptly  left  the  room.  The  following  evening  he 
presented  himself  with  a  couple  of  one-gallon  cans,  one  of  them 
without  a  bottom.  I  thought  I  could  detect  some  impatience  of 
manner  as  he  filled  the  perfect  can  (D)  with  water  from  the 
hydrant,   and  having   spread  a   strip   of   thin   muslin  over  the 


184 


ETIDORIIPA. 


month  of  the  other  can  (B),  pressed  it  firmly  over  tlie  mouth 
(C)  of  the  can  of  water,  which  it  fitted  tightly,  thns  connecting 
them  together,  the  upper  (bottomless)  can  being  inverted.  Then 
he  made  a  narrow  slit  in  the  center  of  the  muslin  with  his 
pen-knife,  and  through  it  thrust  a  glass  tube  like  that  of  our 
former  experiment.  Next  he  wrapped  a  string 
around  the  open  toj)  of  the  upper  can,  crossed 
it  over  the  top,  and  tied  the  glass  tube  to  the 
center  of  the  cross  string. 

"  Simply  to  hold  this  tube  in  position,"  he 
ex])lained. 

The  remainder  of  the  bag  of  salt  left  from 
the  experiment  of  the  preceding  evening  was 
then  dissolved  in  water,  and  the  brine  poured 
into  the  upper  can,  filling  it  to  the  top.  Then 
carefully  thrusting  the  glass  tube  downward, 
he  brought  the  tip  of  the  curs-e  to  within  about 
one-half  inch  of  the  surface  of  the  brine,  when 
immediately  a  rapid  flow  of  liquid  exhibited 
itself.     (Figure  24.) 

"  It  rises  above  its  source  without  sand," 
he  observed. 

"  I  can  not  deny  the  fact,"  I  replied,  "  and 
furthermore  I  am  determined  that  I  shall  not 
question  any  subsequent  statement  that  you 
We  sat  in  silence  for  some  time, 
and  the  water  ran  continuously  through  the 
tube.  I  was  becoming  alarmed,  afraid  of  my  occult  guest,  who 
accepted  my  self-selected  challenges,  and  worked  out  his  results 
so  rapidly ;  he  seemed  to  be  more  than  human. 

"  I  am  a  mortal,  but  a  resident  of  a  higher  plane  than  you," 
he  replied,  divining  my  thoughts.     "  Is  not  this  experiment  a 
natural  one?" 
"  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Did  not  Shakspeare  write,  'There  are  more  things  in  heaven 
and  earth,  Horatio,  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy '  ?" 
"  Yes,"  I  said. 
And  my  guest  continued  : 
"  He  might  have  added,  '  and  always  will  be '." 


Fig.  24. 

A,  surface  of  brine. 

B,  upper  can  filled  with 
brine. 

C,  necks   of   cans   tele- 
scoped. 

D,  lower  can  full   of  may  make." 

water. 


A  CHALLENGE.  185 

"  Scientific  men  will  explain  this  phenomenon,"  I  suggested. 

''  Yes,  when  they  observe  the  facts,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  very 
simple.  They  can  now  tell,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  how 
Colnmbns  stood  the  egg  on  end ;  however,  given  the  problem 
before  Columbus  expounded  it,  they  would  probably  have 
wandered  as  far  from  the  trvie  solution  as  the  mountain  with 
its  edgewise  layers  of  stone  is  from  the  disconnected  artesian 
wells  on  a  distant  sea  coast  where  the  underground  fresh  and 
salt  water  in  overlying  currents  and  layers  clash  together.  The 
explanation,  of  course,  is  simple.  The  brine  is  of  greater  spe- 
cific gravity  than  the  pure  water;  the  pressure  of  the  heavier 
fluid  forces  the  lighter  up  in  the  tube.  This  action  continues 
until,  as  you  will  see  by  this  experiment,  in  the  gradual  diffusion 
of  brine  and  pure  water  the  salt  is  disseminated  equally  through- 
out the  vessels,  and  the  specific  gravity  of  the  mixed  liquid 
becomes  the  same  throughout,  when  the  flow  will  cease.  How- 
ever, in  the  earth,  where  supplies  are  inexhaustible,  the  fountain 
flows  unceasingly." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

BEWARE  OF   BIOLOGY,  THE   SCIENCE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF   MAX.* 

The  old  man  relates  a  story  as  an  object  lesson.) 

"  But  you  have  not  lived  up  to  the  promise;  you  have  evaded 
part  of  the  bargain,"  I  continued.  "While  you  have  certainly 
performed  some  curious  experiments  in  physics  which  seem  to 
be  unique,  yet,  I  am  only  an  amateur  in  science,  and  your 
hydrostatic  illustrations  may  be  repetitions  of  investigations 
already  recorded,  that  have  escaped  the  attention  of  the  scientific 
gentlemen  to  whom  I  have  hitherto  applied." 

"Man's  mind  is  a  creature  of  doubts  and  questions,"  he 
observed.  "  Answer  one  query,  and  others  rise.  His  inner  self 
is  never  satisfied,  and  you  are  not  to  blame  for  wishing  for  a  sign, 
as  all  self-conscious  conditions  of  your  former  existence  compel. 
Now  that  I  have  brushed  aside  the  more  prominent  questionings, 
you  insist  upon  those  omitted,  and  appeal  to  me  to  " — he  hesitated. 

"To  what?"  I  asked,  curious  to  see  if  he  had  intuitively 
grasped  my  unspoken  sentence. 

"To  exhibit  to  you  your  own  brain,"  he  replied. 

"  That  is  it  exactly,"  I  said ;  "  you  promised  it,  and  you  shall 
be  held  strictly  to  your  bargain.  You  agreed  to  show  me  my 
own  brain,  and  it  seems  evident  that  you  have  purposely  evaded 
the  promise." 

"  That  I  have  made  the  promise  and  deferred  its  completion 
can  not  be  denied,  but  not  by  reason  of  an  inability  to  fulfill  the 
contract.  I  will  admit  that  I  purposely  deferred  the  exhibition, 
hoping  on  your  own  account  that  you  would  forget  the  hasty 
promise.  You  would  better  release  me  from  the  promise ;  you 
do  not  know  what  you  ask." 

"  I  believe  that  I  ask  more  than  you  can  perform,"  I  answered, 
"and  that  you  know  it." 


■The  reader  is  invited  to  skip  this  chapter  of  horrors.— J.  U.  L. 
186 


BEWARE  OF  BIOLOGY.  187 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  history,"  he  said,  "  and  then  perhaps  you 
will  relent.  Ivisten.  A  man  once  became  involved  in  the  study 
of  anatomy.  It  led  him  to  destruction.  He  commenced  the 
study  in  order  to  learn  a  profession ;  he  hoped  to  become  a 
physician.  Materia  meciica,  pharmacy,  chemistry,  enticed  him  at 
first,  but  after  a  time  presented  no  charms.  He  was  a  dull  stu- 
dent in  much  that  men  usually  consider  essential  to  the  practice 
of  medicine.  He  was  not  fitted  to  be  a  physician.  Gradually 
he  became  absorbed  in  two  branches,  physiology  and  anatomy. 
Within  his  mental  self  a  latent  something  developed  that  neither 
himself  nor  his  friends  had  suspected.  This  was  an  increasing 
desire  for  knowledge  concerning  the  human  body.  The  insati- 
able craving  for  anatomy  grew  upon  him,  and  as  it  did  so  other 
sections  of  medicine  were  neglected.  Gradually  he  lost  sight  of 
his  professional  object ;  he  dropped  chemistry,  materia  medica, 
pharmacy,  and  at  last,  morbidly  lived  only  in  the  aforenamed 
two  branches. 

"  His  first  visit  to  the  dissecting  room  was  disagreeable. 
The  odor  of  putrid  flesh,  the  sight  of  the  mutilated  bodies 
repulsed  him.  When  first  his  hand,  warm  in  life,  touched  the 
clammy  flesh  of  a  corpse,  he  shuddered.  Then  when  his  fingers 
came  in  contact  with  the  viscera  of  a  cadaver,  that  of  a  little 
child,  he  cried  out  in  horror.  The  demonstrator  of  anatomy 
urged  him  on ;  he  finally  was  induced  to  dissect  part  of  the 
infant.  The  reflex  action  on  his  sensitive  mind  first  stunned, 
and  then  warped  his  senses.  His  companions  had  to  lead  him 
from  the  room.  '  Wash  it  off,  wash  it  off",'  he  repeated,  tr^ang  to 
throw  his  hand  from  his  person.  'Horrid,  horrible,  unclean. 
The  child  is  yet  before  me,'  he  insisted.  Then  he  went  into 
a  fever  and  raved.  '  Some  mother  wall  meet  me  on  the  street 
and  curse  me,'  he  cried.  "  That  hand  is  red  with  the  blood  of  my 
darling;  it  has  desecrated  the  innocent  dead,  and  mutilated  that 
which  is  most  precious  to  a  mother."  Take  the  hand  away,  wash 
it,'  he  shouted.  'The  mother  curses  me;  she  demands  retribu- 
tion. Better  that  a  man  be  dead  than  cursed  by  a  mother  whose 
child  has  been  desecrated.'  So  the  unfortunate  being  raved, 
dreaming  all  manner  of  horrid  imaginings.  But  at  last  he 
recovered,  a  different  man.  He  returned  voluntarily  to  the 
dissecting-room,   and    wrapped    himself  in    the    uncouth   work. 


18S  IvTIDORIirA. 

Nothing  in  connection  witli  corpse-mutilation  was  now  offensive 
or  unclean.  He  threw  aside  his  other  studies,  he  became  a  slave 
possessed  of  one  idea.  He  scarcely  took  time  to  dine  respectably ; 
indeed,  he  often  ate  his  lunch  in  the  dissecting-room.  The  blood 
of  a  child  was  again  and  again  on  his  fingers ;  it  mattered  not, 
he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  wash  it  off.  '  The  liver  of  man  is 
not  more  sacred  than  the  liver  of  a  hog,'  he  argued ;  '  the  flesh  of 
a  man  is  the  same  as  other  forms  of  animal  food.  When  a  person 
dies  the  vital  heat  escapes,  consciousness  is  dissipated,  and  the 
cold,  rigid  remains  are  only  animal.  Consciousness  and  life  are 
all  that  is  of  man — one  is  force,  the  other  matter ;  when  man  dies 
both  perish  and  are  dissipated.'  His  friends  perceived  his 
fondness  for  dissection,  and  argued  with  him  again,  endeavoring 
now  to  overcome  his  infatuation  ;  he  repelled  them.  '  I  learned 
in  my  vision,'  he  said,  referring  to  his  fever,  'that  Pope  was 
right  in  saying  that  the  "  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man "; 
I  care  nothing  for  your  priestly  superstitions  concerning  the 
dead.  These  fables  are  the  invention  of  designing  churchmen 
who  live  on  the  superstitions  of  the  ignorant.  I  am  an  infidel, 
and  believe  in  no  spirit  intangible ;  that  which  can  be  seen,  felt, 
and  weighed  is,  all  else  is  not.  Life  is  simply  a  sensation.  All 
beyond  is  chimerical,  less  than  fantastic,  believed  in  only  by 
dupes  and  weak-minded,  credulous  tools  of  knaves,  or  creatures 
of  blind  superstition.'  He  carried  the  finely  articulated, 
bleached  skull  of  a  cadaver  to  his  room,  and  placed  it  beside 
a  marble  statue  that  was  a  valued  heirloom,  the  model  of  Venus 
of  Milo.  '  Both  are  lime  compounds,'  he  cynically  observed, 
'neither  is  better  than  the  other.'  His  friends  protested.  'Your 
superstitious  education  is  at  fault,'  he  answered ;  '  you  mentally 
clothe  one  of  these  objects  in  a  quality  it  does  not  deserve,  and 
the  thought  creates  a  pleasant  emotion.  The  other,  equally  as 
pure,  reminds  you  of  the  grave  that  you  fear,  and  you  shudder. 
These  mental  pulsations  are  artificial,  both  being  either  survivals 
of  superstition,  or  creations  of  your  own  mind.  The  lime  in 
the  skull  is  now  as  inanimate  as  that  of  the  statue ;  neither 
object  is  responsible  for  its  form,  neither  is  unclean.  To  me, 
the  delicate  configuration,  the  exact  articulation,  the  perfect 
adaptation  for  the  office  it  originally  filled,  makes  each  bone  of 
this  skull  a  thing  of  beauty,  an  object  of  admiration.      As  a 


RRWARE  OF  RIOI.OGY.  189 

whole,  it  gives  ine  pleasure  to  think  of  this  wonderful,  exquis- 
itely arranged  piece  of  mechanism.  The  statue  you  admire  is 
in  every  respect  outrivaled  by  the  skull,  and  I  have  placed  the 
two  together  because  it  pleases  me  to  demonstrate  that  man's 
most  artistic  creation  is  far  inferior  to  material  man.  Throw 
aside  your  sentimental  prejudices,  and  join  with  me  in  the 
admiration  of  this  thing  of  beauty;'  and  he  toyed  with  the 
skull  as  if  it  were  a  work  of  art.  So  he  argued,  and  arguing 
passed  from  bone  to  bone,  and  from  organ  to  organ.  He  filled 
his  room  with  abnormal  fragments  of  the  human  body,  and 
surrounded  himself  with  jars  of  preserved  anatomical  speci- 
mens. His  friends  fled  in  disgust,  and  he  smiled,  glad  to  be 
alone  with  his  ghastly  subjects.  He  was  infatuated  in  one  of 
the  alcoves  of  science." 

The  old  man  paused. 

"Shall  I  proceed?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  but  involuntarily  moved  my  chair  back,  for  I 
began  again  to  be  afraid  of  the  speaker. 

"  At  last  this  scientific  man  had  mastered  all  that  was  known 
concerning  physiology  and  anatomy.  He  learned  by  heart  the 
wording  of  great  volumes  devoted  to  these  subjects.  The  human 
frame  became  to  him  as  an  open  book.  He  knew  the  articula- 
tion of  every  muscle,  cmild  name  a  bone  from  a  mere  fragment. 
The  microscope  ceased  to  be  an  object  of  interest,  the  secrets  of 
pathology  and  physiology  had  been  mastered.  Then,  uncon- 
sciously, he  was  infected  by  another  tendency;  a  new  thought  was 
destined  to  dominate  his  brain.  'What  is  it  that  animates  tliis 
frame?  What  lies  inside  to  give  it  life?'  He  became  enthused 
again :  '  The  dead  body,  to  which  I  have  given  my  time,  is  not 
the  conscious  part  of  man,'  he  said  to  himself;  '  I  must  find  this 
thing  of  life  within ;  I  have  been  only  a  butcher  of  the  dead. 
My  knowledge  is  superficial.'  " 

Again  the  old  man  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  inquiringh'. 

"Shall  I  proceed?"  he  repeated, 

I  was  possessed  by  horror,  but  yet  fascinated,  and  answered 
determinedly:  "Goon." 

"Beware,"  he  added,  "beware  of  the  Science  of  Life." 

Pleadingly  he  looked  at  me. 

"  Go  on,"  I  commanded. 


190  ETIDORHPA. 

He  continued : 

"With  the  cunning  of  a  madman,  this  person  of  profound 
learning,  led  from  the  innocence  of  ignorance  to  the  heartless- 
ness  of  advanced  biological  science,  secretly  planned  to  seek  the 
vital  forces.  '  I  must  begin  with  a  child,  for  the  life  essence 
shows  its  first  manifestations  in  children,'  he  reasoned.  He 
moved  to  an  unfrequented  locality,  discharged  his  servants,  and 
notified  his  former  friends  that  visitors  were  unwelcome.  He 
had  determined  that  no  interruption  to  his  work  should  occur. 
This  course  was  unnecessary,  however,  for  now  he  had  neither 
friends  nor  visitors.  He  employed  carpenters  and  artisans,  and 
perfected  a  series  of  mechanical  tables,  beautiful  examples  of 
automatic  mechanism.  From  the  inner  room  of  that  house  no 
cry  could  be  heard  by  persons  outside.     .     .     . 

[It  will  be  seen,  by  referring  to  the  epilogue,  that  ^Ir.  Drury  agreed  to 
mutilate  part  of  the  book.  This  I  have  gladly  done,  excising  the  heart-rending 
passages  that  follow.  To  use  the  words  of  Prof.  Venablc,  they  do  not  "  com- 
port with  the  general  delicac\'  of  the  book." — J.  U.  L.] 

"Hold,  old  man,  cease,"  I  cried  aghast;  "I  have  had  enough 
of  this.  You  trifle  with  me,  demon ;  I  have  not  asked  for  night- 
mare stories,  heart-curdling  accounts  of  maniacal  investigators, 
who  madly  pursue  their  revolting  calling,  and  discredit  the  name 
of  science." 

"You  asked  to  see  your  own  brain,"  he  replied. 

"And  have  been  given  a  terrible  story  instead,"  I  retorted. 

"So  men  perverted,  misconstruing  the  aim  of  science,  answer 
the  cry  of  humanity,"  he  said.  "  One  by  one  the  cherished 
treasures  of  Christianity  have  been  stolen  from  the  faithful. 
What,  to  the  mother,  can  replace  the  babe  that  has  been  lost?" 

"The  next  world,"  I  answered,  "offers  a  comfort." 

"  Bah,"  he  said ;  "  does  not  another  searcher  in  that  same 
science  field  tell  the  mother  that  there  is  no  personal  hereafter, 
that  she  will  never  see  her  babe  again?  One  man  of  science 
steals  the  body,  another  man  of  science  takes  away  the  soul,  the 
third  annihilates  heaven ;  they  go  like  pestilence  and  famine, 
hand  in  hand,  subsisting  on  all  that  craving  humanity  considers 
sacred,  and  offering  no  tangible  return  beyond  a  materialistic 
present.     This  same  science  that  seems  to  be  doing  so  much  for 


BEWARE  OF  RIOLOCrY.  191 

humanity  will  continue  to  elevate  so-called  material  civilization 
until,  as  the  yeast  ferment  is  smothered  in  its  own  excretion,  so 
will  science-thought  create  conditions  to  blot  itself  from  existence, 
and  destroy  the  civilization  it  creates.  Science  is  heartless,  not- 
withstanding the  personal  purity  of  the  majority  of  her  helpless 
votaries.     She  is  a  thief,  not  of  ordinary  riches,  but  of  treasures 


"rising  abruptly,  he  grasped  mv  hand." 

that  can  not  be  replaced.  Before  science  provings  the  love  of  a 
mother  perishes,  the  hope  of  immortality  is  annihilated.  Beware 
of  materialism,  the  end  of  the  science  of  man.  Beware  of  the 
beginning  of  biological  inquiry,  for  he  who  commences,  can  not 
foresee  the  termination.  I  say  to  you  in  candor,  no  man  ever 
engaged  in  the  part  of  science  lore  that  questions  the  life 
essence,  realizing  the  possible  end  of  his  investigations.  The 
insidious  servant  becomes  a  tyrannical  master ;  the  housebreaker 
is  innocent,  the  horse  thief  guiltless  in  comparison.  Science 
thought  begins  in  the  brain  of  man;  science  provings  end  all 
things  with  the  end  of  the  material  brain  of  man.  Beware  of 
your  own  brain." 


102  KTIDORIirA. 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  I  replied,  "  that  I  will  ever  be  led  to  disturb 
the  creeds  of  the  faithful,  and  I  will  not  be  diverted.  I  demand 
to  see  my  brain." 

"  Your  demand  shall  now  be  fulfilled ;  you  have  been  warned 
of  the  return  that  may  follow  the  commencement  of  this  study ; 
you  force  the  issue;  my  responsibility  ceases.  No  man  of 
science  realized  the  end  when  he  began  to  investigate  his 
throbbing  brain,  and  the  end  of  the  fabric  that  science  is 
weaving  for  man  rests  in  the  hidden  future.  The  story  I  have 
related  is  a  true  one,  as  thousands  of  faithful  men  who  uncon- 
sciously have  been  led  into  infidelity  have  experienced ;  and  as  the 
faithful  followers  of  sacred  teachings  can  also  perceive,  who 
recognize  that  their  religion  and  the  hope  of  heaven  is  slipping 
aw^ay  beneath  the  steady  inroad  of  the  heartless  materialistic 
investigator,  who  clothes  himself  in  the  garb  of  science." 

Rising  abruptly  from  his  chair,  he  grasped  my  hand.  "  You 
shall  see  your  brain,  man;  come." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

LOOKING    BACKWARD. — THK    LIVING   BRAIN. 

The  old  man  accompanied  his  word  "come,"  as  I  have  said, 
by  rising  from  his  chair,  and  then  with  a  display  of  strength 
quite  out  of  proportion  to  his  age,  he  grasped  my  wrist  and  drew 
me  toward  the  door.  Realizing  at  once  that  he  intended  I 
should  accompany  him  into  the  night,  I  protested,  saying  that  I 
was  quite  unprepared. 

"  My  hat,  at  least,"  I  insisted,  as  he  made  no  recognition  of 
my  first  demur. 

"  Your  hat  is  on  your  head,"  he  replied. 

This  was  true,  although  I  am  sure  the  hat  had  been  pre- 
viously hung  on  a  rack  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  and  I 
am  equally  certain  that  neither  my  companion  nor  myself  had 
touched  it.  Leaving  me  no  time  for  reflection,  he  opened  the 
door,  and  drew  me  through  the  hallway  and  into  the  gloom.  As 
though  perfectly  familiar  with  the  city,  he  guided  me  from  my 
cozy  home,  on  the  retired  side  street  in  which  I  resided,  east- 
wardly  into  the  busy  thoroughfare.  Western  Row.  Our  course 
led  us  down  towards  the  river,  past  Ninth,  Eighth,  Seventh 
Streets.  Now  and  then  a  pedestrian  stopped  to  gaze  in  surprise 
at  the  unique  spectacle,  the  old  man  leading  the  young  one,  but 
none  made  any  attempt  to  molest  us.  We  passed  on  in  silence, 
out  of  the  busy  part  of  the  thoroughfare  and  into  the  shady 
part  of  the  city,  into  the  darkness  below  Fifth  Street.  Here  the 
residences  were  poorer,  and  tenement-houses  and  factories  began 
to  appear.  We  were  now  in  a  quarter  of  the  city  into  which 
strangers  seldom,  if  ever,  penetrated  after  night,  and  in  which 
I  would  not  have  cared  to  be  found  unprotected  at  any  time 
after  sunset,  much  less  in  such  questionable  company.  I  pro- 
tested against  the  indiscretion ;  my  leader  made  no  reph-,  but 
drew  me  on  past  the  flickering  gas  lights  that  now  and  then 
appeared    at    the    intersection    of    Third,    Pearl,    Second,    and 


1Q4  p:tii)Orhpa. 

Water  Streets,  until  at  last  we  stood,  in  darkness,  on  the  bank 
of  the  Ohio  River, 

Strange,  the  ferry-boat  at  that  time  of  night  only  made  a 
trip  every  thirty  minutes,  and  yet  it  was  at  the  landing  as 
though  by  appointment.  Fear  began  to  possess  me,  and  as  my 
thoughts  recur  to  that  evening,  I  can  not  understand  how  it 
was  that  I  allowed  myself  to  be  drawn  without  cry  or  resistance 
from  my  secure  home  to  the  Ohio  River,  in  such  companion- 
ship. I  can  account  for  the  adventure  only  by  the  fact  that  I 
had  deliberately  challenged  my  companion  to  make  the  test 
he  was  fulfilling,  and  that  an  innate  consciousness  of  pride  and 
justice  compelled  me  to  permit  him  to  employ  his  own  methods. 
We  crossed  the  river  without  speaking,  and  rapidly  ascending 
the  levee  we  took  our  course  up  Main  Street  into  Covington. 
Still  in  the  lead,  my  aged  guide,  without  hesitation,  went  onward 
to  the  intersection  of  Main  and  Pike  Streets;  thence  he  turned 
to  the  right,  and  following  the  latter  thoroughfare  we  passed 
the  old  tannery,  that  I  recalled  as  a  familiar  landmark,  and 
then  started  up  the  hill.  Onward  we  strode,  past  a  hotel 
named  "  Niemeyer's,"  and  soon  were  in  the  open  country  on  the 
Lexington  Pike,  treading  through  the  mud,  diagonally  up  the 
hill  back  of  Covington.  Then,  at  a  sharp  curve  in  the  road 
where  it  rounded  the  point  of  the  hill,  we  left  the  highway, 
and  struck  down  the  hillside  into  a  ravine  that  bounded  the 
lower  side  of  the  avenue.  We  had  long  since  left  the  city 
lamps  and  sidewalks  behind  us,  and  now,  when  we  left  the  road- 
way, were  on  the  muddy  pike  at  a  considerable  elevation  upon 
the  hillside  and,  looking  backward,  I  beheld  innumerable 
lights  throughout  the  cities  of  Cincinnati,  Covington,  and  the 
village  of  Newport,  sparkling  away  in  the  distance  behind  and 
below  us. 

"  Come,"  my  companion  said  again,  as  I  hesitated,  repeating 
the  only  word  he  had  uttered  since  telling  his  horrible  story, 
"Come!" 

Down  the  hill  into  the  valley  we  plunged,  and  at  last  he 
opened  the  door  of  an  isolated  log  cabin,  which  we  entered. 
He  lighted  a  candle  that  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  and  together 
we  stood  facing  each  other. 

"  Be  seated,"  he  said  dryly. 


LOOKING  BACKWARD.  195 

And  then  I  observed  that  the  cold  excuse  for  furniture  in 
that  desolate  room  consisted  of  a  single  rude,  hand-made  chair 
with  corn-shuck  bottom.  However,  I  did  not  need  a  second 
invitation,  but  sank  exhausted  and  disconsolate  upon  the  wel- 
come object. 

My  companion  lost  no  time,  but  struck  at  once  into  the 
subject  that  concerned  us,  arguing  as  follows: 

"  One  of  the  troubles  with  humanity  is  that  of  changing  a 
thought  from  the  old  to  a  new  channel ;  to  grasp  at  one  effort  an 
entirely  new  idea  is  an  impossibility.  Men  follow  men  in  trains 
of  thought  expression,  as  in  bodily  form  generations  of  men 
follow  generations.  A  child  born  with  three  legs  is  a  freak  of 
nature,  a  monstrosity,  yet  it  sometimes  appears.  A  man 
possessed  of  a  new  idea  is  an  anomaly,  a  something  that  may 
not  be  impossible,  but  which  has  never  appeared.  It  is  almost 
as  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  new  idea  as  it  is  to  create  out  of 
nothing  a  new  material  or  an  element.  Neither  thoughts  nor 
things  can  be  invented,  both  must  be  evolved  out  of  a  preexist- 
ing something  which  it  necessarily  resembles.  Every  advanced 
idea  that  appears  in  the  brain  of  man  is  the  result  of  a  suggestion 
from  without.  Men  have  gone  on  and  on  ceaselessly,  with  their 
minds  bent  in  one  direction,  ever  looking  outwardly,  never 
inwardly.  It  has  not  occurred  to  them  to  question  at  all  in  the 
direction  of  backward  sight.  Mind  has  been  enabled  to  read 
the  impressions  that  are  made  in  and  on  the  substance  of  brain 
convolutions,  but  at  the  same  time  has  been  and  is  insensible  to 
the  existence  of  the  convolutions  themselves.  It  is  as  though  we 
could  read  the  letters  of  the  manuscript  that  bears  them  without 
having  conceived  of  a  necessity  for  the  existence  of  a  printed 
surface,  such  as  paper  or  anything  outside  the  letters.  Had 
anatomists  never  dissected  a  brain,  the  human  family  would 
to-day  live  in  absolute  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  the  substance 
that  lies  within  the  skull.  Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  that 
the  mind  can  not  now  bring  to  the  senses  the  config'uration,  or 
nature,  of  the  substance  in  which  mind  exists?  Its  own  house 
is  unknown.  This  is  in  consequence  of  the  fact  that  physical 
existence  has  always  depended  upon  the  study  of  external  sur- 
roundings, and  consequently  the  power  of  internal  sight  lies 
undeveloped.     It  has  never  been  deemed  necessary  for  man  to 


196  ETIDORHPA. 

attempt  to  view  the  internal  construction  of  his  body,  and  hence 
the  sense  of  feelinf^  only  advises  him  of  that  which  lies  within 
his  own  self.  This  sense  is  abstract,  not  descriptive.  Normal 
organs  have  no  sensible  existence.  Thus  an  abnormal  condition 
of  an  organ  creates  the  sensation  of  pain  or  pleasure,  but  dis- 
closes nothing  concerning  the  appearance  or  construction  of  the 
organ  affected.  The  perfect  liver  is  as  vacancy.  The  normal 
brain  never  throbs  and  aches.  The  quiescent  arm  presents  no 
evidence  to  the  mind  concerning  its  shape,  size,  or  color.  ]\Ian 
can  not  count  his  fingers  unless  some  outside  object  touches 
them,  or  they  press  successively  against  each  other,  or  he  per- 
ceives them  by  sight.  The  brain  of  man,  the  seat  of  knowledge^ 
in  which  mind  centers,  is  not  perceptible  through  the  senses. 
Does  it  not  seem  irrational,  however,  to  believe  that  mind  itself 
is  not  aware,  or  could  not  be  made  cognizant,  of  the  nature  of 
its  material  surroundings?" 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  have  not  given  the  subject  a  thought," 
I  replied. 

"  As  I  predicted,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  step  toward  a  new  idea, 
and  simple  as  it  seems,  now  that  the  subject  has  been  suggested, 
you  must  agree  that  thousands  of  intelligent  men  have  not  been 
able  to  formulate  the  thought.  The  idea  had  never  occurred  to 
them.  Even  after  our  previous  conversation  concerning  the 
possibility  of  showing  you  your  own  brain,  you  were  powerless 
and  could  not  conceive  of  the  train  of  thought  which  I  started, 
and  along  which  I  shall  now  further  direct  your  senses." 

"  The  eye  is  so  constituted  that  light  produces  an  impression 
on  a  nervous  film  in  the  rear  of  that  organ,  this  film  is  named 
the  retina,  the  impression  being  carried  backward  therefrom 
through  a  magma  of  nerve  fibers  (the  optic  nerve),  and  reaching 
the  brain,  is  recorded  on  that  organ  and  thus  affects  the  mind. 
Is  it  not  rational  to  suppose  it  possible  for  this  sequence  to  be 
reversed?  In  other  words,  if  the  order  were  reversed  could  not 
the  same  set  of  nerves  carry  an  impression  from  behind  to  the 
retina,  and  picture  thereon  an  image  of  the  object  which  lies 
anterior  thereto,  to  be  again,  by  reflex  action,  carried  back  to 
the  brain,  thus  bringing  the  brain  siibstance  itself  to  the  view 
of  the  mind,  and  thus  impress  the  senses?  To  recapitulate:  If 
the  nerve  sensation,  or  force  expression,  should  travel  from  the 


"  FACING  THE  OPEN  WINDOW  HE   TURNED  THE   PUPILS  OF    HIS 

EYES   UPWARD." 


I.OOKINC;  BACKWARD.  199 

brain  to  the  retina,  instead  of  from  an  ontward  object,  it  will  on 
the  reverse  of  the  retina  prodnce  the  image  of  that  which  lies 
behind,  and  then  if  the  optic  nerve  carry  the  image  back  to  the 
brain,  the  mind  will  bring  to  the  senses  the  appearance  of  the 
image  depicted  thereon." 

"  This  is  my  first  consideration  of  the  snbject,"  I  replied. 

"Exactly,"  he  said;  "yon  have  passed  throngh  life  looking 
at  outside  objects,  and  have  been  heedlessly  ignorant  of  your 
own  brain.  You  have  never  made  an  exclamation  of  surprise  at 
the  statement  that  you  really  see  a  star  that  exists  in  the  depths 
of  space  millions  of  miles  beyond  our  solar  system,  and  yet  you 
became  incredulous  and  scornful  when  it  was  suggested  that  I 
could  show  you  how  you  could  see  the  configuration  of  your 
brain,  an  object  with  which  the  organ  of  sight  is  nearly  in 
contact.     How  inconsistent." 

"  The  chain  of  reasoning  is  certainly  novel,  and  yet  I  can 
not  think  of  a  mode  by  which  I  can  reverse  my  method  of  sight 
and  look  backward,"  I  now  respectfully  answered. 

"  It  is  very  simple ;  all  that  is  required  is  a  counter  excitation 
of  the  nerve,  and  we  have  with  us  to-night  what  any  person 
who  cares  to  consider  the  subject  can  employ  at  any  time,  and 
thus  behold  an  outline  of  a  part  of  his  own  brain.  I  will  give 
you  the  lesson." 

Placing  himself  before  the  sashless  window  of  the  cabin, 
which  opening  appeared  as  a  black  space  pictured  against  the 
night,  the  sage  took  the  candle  in  his  right  hand,  holding  it  so 
that  the  flame  was  just  below  the  tip  of  the  nose,  and  about  six 
inches  from  his  face.  Then  facing  the  open  window  he  turned 
the  pupils  of  his  eyes  upward,  seeming  to  fix  his  gaze  on  the 
upper  part  of  the  open  window  space,  and  then  he  slowly  moved 
the  candle  transversely,  backward  and  forward,  across,  in  front 
of  his  face,  keeping  it  in  such  position  that  the  flickering  flame 
made  a  parallel  line  with  his  eyes,  and  as  just  remarked,  about 
six  inches  from  his  face,  and  just  below  the  tip  of  his  nose. 
Speaking  deliberately,  he  said : 

"  Now,  were  I  you,  this  movement  would  produce  a  counter 
irritation  of  the  retina;  a  rhythm  of  the  optic  nerve  would 
follow,  a  reflex  action  of  the  brain  accompanying,  and  now  a 
figure  of  part  of  the  brain  that  rests  against  the  skull  in  the 


200 


ETIDORHPA. 


back  of  my  head  would  be  pictured  on  the  retiua.  I  would  see 
it  plaiuly,  appareutly  pictured  or  thrown  across  the  open  space 
before  nie." 

"Incredible!"  I  replied. 

"  Try  for  yourself,"  quietly  said  my  guide. 

Placing  myself  in  the  position  designated,  I  repeated  the 
maneuver,   when   slowly   a   shadowy   something   seemed    to   be 


"  A    BRAIX,    A    LIVING    BRAIN,    MV    OWN    BRAIN." 

evolved  out  of  the  blank  space  before  me.  It  seemed  to  be  as  a 
gray  veil,  or  like  a  corrugated  sheet  as  thin  as  gauze,  which  as 
I  gazed  upon  it  and  discovered  its  outline,  became  more  apparent 
and  real.  Soon  the  convolutions  assumed  a  more  decided  form, 
the  gray  matter  was  visible,  filled  with  venations,  first  gray  and 
then  red,  and  as  I  became  familiar  with  the  sight,  suddenly  the 
convolutions  of  a  brain  in  all  its  exactness,  with  a  network  of 
red  blood  venations,  burst  into  existence.* 

I  beheld  a  brain,  a  brain,  a  living  brain,  my  own  brain,  and 
as  an  uncanny  sensation  possessed  me  I  shudderingly  stopped 
the  motion  of  the  candle,  and  in  an  instant  the  shadow}'  figure 
disappeared. 

"  Have  I  won  the  wager?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 


♦This  experiment  is  not  claimed  as  original.  See  Poekinje's  Beitrage  ziir  Kenntniss 
des  Sehens  in  snbjectiver  Hinsicht  (Prague,  1823  and  1S25),  whose  conclusions  to  the  eflect 
that  the  shadow  of  the  retina  is  seen,  I-Am-The-Mim  ignores.— J.  U.  L. 


LOOKING  BACKWARD.  201 

"  Then,"  said  my  comi^anion,  "  make  no  further  investiga- 
tions in  this  direction." 

"  But  I  wish  to  verify  the  experiment,"  I  replied.  "  Althouo-h 
it  is  not  a  pleasant  test,  I  can  not  withstand  the  temptation  to 
repeat  it." 

And  again  I  moved  the  candle  backward  and  forward,  when 
the  figure  of  my  brain  sprung  at  once  into  existence. 

"  It  is  more  vivid,"  I  said;  "  I  see  it  plainer,  and  more  quickly 
than  before." 

"  Beware  of  the  science  of  man  I  repeat,"  he  replied;  "now, 
before  you  are  deep  in  the  toils,  and  can  not  foresee  the  end, 
beware  of  the  science  of  human  biology.  Remember  the  story 
recently  related,  that  of  the  physician  who  was  led  to  destruction 
by  the  alluring  voice." 

I  made  no  reply,  but  stood  with  my  face  fixed,  slowly  moving 
the  candle  backward  and  forward,  gazing  intently  into  the 
depths  of  my  own  brain. 

After  a  time  the  old  man  removed  the  candle  from  my  hand, 
and  said:  "  Do  you  accej^t  the  fact?  Have  I  demonstrated  the 
truth  of  the  assertion?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "but  tell  me  further,  now  that  you  have 
excited  my  interest,  have  I  seen  and  learned  all  that  man  can 
discover  in  this  direction?" 

"  No ;  you  have  seen  but  a  small  portion  of  the  brain  convo- 
lutions, only  those  that  lie  directly  back  of  the  optic  nerve.  By 
systematic  research,  under  proper  conditions,  every  part  of  the 
living  brain  may  become  as  plainly  pictured  as  that  which  vou 
have  seen." 

"And  is  that  all  that  could  be  learned?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  continued.  "  Further  development  may  enable  men 
to  picture  the  figures  engraved  on  the  convolutions,  and  at  last 
to  read  the  thoughts  that  are  engraved  within  the  brains  of 
others,  and  thus  through  material  investigation  the  observer  will 
perceive  the  recorded  thought  of  another  person.  An  instrument 
capable  of  searching  and  illuminating  the  retina  could  be  easily 
affixed  to  the  eye  of  a  criminal,  after  which,  if  the  mind  of  the 
person  operated  upon  were  stimulated  by  the  suggestion  of  an 
occurrence  either  remote  or  recent,  the  mind  faculty  would  excite 
the  brain,  produce  the  record,  and  spread  the  circumstances  as  a 


202  ETIDORHPA. 

picture  before  the  observer.  The  brain  would  tell  its  own  story, 
and  the  investigator  could  read  the  truth  as  recorded  in  the  brain 
of  the  other  man.  A  criminal  subjected  to  such  an  examination 
could  not  tell  an  untruth,  or  equivocate ;  his  very  brain  would 
present  itself  to  the  observer." 

"  And  you  make  this  assertion,  and  then  ask  me  to  go  no 
further  into  the  subject?" 

"Yes;  decidedly  yes." 

"Tell  me,  then,  could  you  not  have  performed  this  experi- 
ment in  my  room,  or  in  the  dark  cellar  of  my  house?" 

"  Any  one  can  repeat  it  with  a  candle  in  any  room  not  other- 
wise lighted,  by  looking  at  a  blackboard,  a  blank  wall,  or  black 
space,"  he  said. 

I  was  indignant. 

"Why  have  you  treated  me  so  inhumanly?  Was  there  a 
necessity  for  this  journey,  these  mysterious  movements,  this 
physical  exertion  ?  Look  at  the  mud  with  which  I  am  covered, 
and  consider  the  return  trip  which  yet  lies  before  me,  and  which 
must  prove  even  more  exhausting?" 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "you  overdraw.  The  lesson  has  been  easily 
acquired.  Science  is  not  an  easy  road  to  travel.  Those  who 
propose  to  profit  thereby  must  work  circuitously,  soil  their  hands 
and  person,  meet  discouragements,  and  must  expect  hardships, 
reverses,  abuse,  and  discomfort.  Do  not  complain,  but  thank  me- 
for  giving  you  the  lesson  without  other  tribulations  that  might 
have  accompanied  it.  Besides,  there  was  another  object  in  my 
journey,  an  object  that  I  have  quietly  accomplished,  and  which 
you  may  never  know.     Come,  we  must  return." 

He  extinguished  the  light  of  the  candle,  and  we  departed 
together,  trudging  back  through  the  mud  and  the  night.  * 

Of  that  wearisome  return  trip  I  have  nothing  to  say  beyond 
the  fact  that  before  reaching  home  my  companion  disappeared  in 
the  darkness  of  a  side  street,  and  that  the  Cathedral  chimes  were 
plaving  for  three  o'clock  A.  m.,  as  I  passed  the  corner  of  Eighth 
Street  and  Western  Row. 

The  next  evening  my  visitor  appeared  as  usual,  and  realizing 
his  complete  victory,  he  made  no  reference  to  the  occurrences 


*We  jnust  acquiesce  in  the  explanation  given  for  this  seemingly  uncalled-for  joiirney,  and 
yet  feel  that  it  was  unnecessarily  exacting. 


LOOKING  BACKWARD.  203 

of  the  previous  night.  In  his  nsnal  cahn  and  deliberate  manner 
he  prodnced  the  roll  of  manuscript  saying  benignantly,  and  in  a 
gentle  tone : 

"Do  you  recollect  where  I  left  off  reading?" 

"You  had  reached  that  point  in  your  narrative,"  I  answered, 
"at  which  your  guide  had  replaced  the  boat  on  the  surface  of 
the  lake." 

And  the  mysterious  being  resumed  his  reading. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  CONTINUED. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


A  LESSON   OX   VOLCANOES. — PRIMARY    COLORS   ARE    CAPABLE  OF 
FARTHER   SUBDIVISION. 

"Get  into  the  boat,"  said  my  eyeless  pilot,  "and  we  will 
proceed  to  the  farther  edge  of  the  lake,  over  the  barrier  of  which 
at  great  intervals  of  time,  the  surface  water  flows,  and  induces 
the  convulsion  known  as  Mount  Epomeo." 

We  accordingly  embarked,  and  a  gentle  touch  of  the  lever 
enabled  us  rapidly  to  skirt  the  shore  of  the  underground  sea. 
The  soft,  bright,  pleasant  earth-light  continually  enveloped  us, 
and  the  absence  of  either  excessive  heat  or  cold,  rendered 
existence  delightful.  The  weird  forms  taken  by  the  objects 
that  successively  presented  themselves  on  the  sliore  were  a 
source  of  continual  delight  to  my  mind.  The  motion  of  our 
boat  was  constantly  at  the  will  of  my  guide.  Now  we  would 
skim  across  a  great  bay,  flashing  ffom  point  to  point ;  again  we 
wound  slowly  through  tortuous  channels  and  among  partly 
submerged  stones. 

"What  a  blessing  this  mode  of  locomotion  would  be  to 
humanity,"  I  murmured. 

"  Humanity  will  yet  attain  it,"  he  replied.  "  Step  by  step 
men  have  stumbled  along  towards  the  goal  that  the  light  of 
coming  centuries  is  destined  to  illuminate.  They  have  studied, 
and  are  still  engaged  in  studying,  the  properties  of  grosser 
forces,  such  as  heat  and  electricity,  and  they  will  be  led  by  the 
thread  they  are  following,  to  this  and  other  achievements  yet 
unthought  of,  but  which  lie  back  of  those  more  conspicuous." 

We  finally  reached  a  precipitous  bluff",  that  sprung  to  my 
view  as  by  magic,  and  which,  with  a  glass-like  surface,  stretched 
upward   to  a   height   beyond   the   scope    of   my  vision,    rising 


WE    FINALLY   REACHED   A   PRECIPITOUS   BLUFF, 


A  LESvSON  ON  VOLCANOEvS.  207 

straight  from  the  surface  of  the  lake.  It  was  composed  of  a 
material  seemingly  black  as  jet,  and  yet  when  seen  under  vary- 
ing spectacular  conditions  as  we  skirted  its  base  it  reflected,  or 
emitted,  most  gorgeously  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  rainbow,  and 
also  other  colors  hitherto  unknown  to  me. 

"  There  is  something  unique  in  these  shades;  species  of  color 
appear  that  I  can  not  identify ;  I  seem  to  perceive  colors  utterly 
unlike  any  that  I  know  as  the  result  of  deflected,  or  transmitted, 
sunlight  rays,  and  they  look  unlike  the  combinations  of  primary 
■colors  with  which  I  am  familiar." 

"  Your  observations  are  true ;  some  of  these  colors  are 
unknown  on  earth." 

"  But  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  we  have  all  possible  combi- 
nations of  the  seven  prismatic  rays,"  I  answered.  "How  can 
there  be  others  here?" 

"  Because,  first,  your  primary  colors  are  capable  of  further 
subdivision. 

"  Second,  other  rays,  invisible  to  men  under  usual  conditions, 
also  emanate  from  the  sun,  and  under  favorable  circumstances 
may  be  brought  to  the  sense  of  sight." 

"  Do  you  assert  that  the  prism  is  capable  of  only  partly 
analyzing  the  sunlight?" 

"Yes;  what  reason  have  you  to  argue  that,  because  a 
triangular  bit  of  glass  resolves  a  white  ray  into  seven  fractions 
that  are,  as  men  say,  differently  colored,  you  could  not  by 
proper  methods  subdivide  each  of  these  so-called  primary  shades 
into  others?  What  reason  have  you  to  doubt  that  rays  now 
invisible  to  man  accompany  those  capable  of  impressing  his 
senses,  and  might  by  proper  methods  become  perceptible  as  new 
colors?" 

"None,"  I  answered;  "only  that  I  have  no  proof  that  such 
rays  exist." 

"  But  they  do  exist,  and  men  will  yet  learn  that  the  term 
^  primitive '  ray,  as  applied  to  each  of  the  seven  colors  of  the 
rainbow,  is  incorrect.  Each  will  yet  be  resolved,  and  as  our 
faculties  multiply  and  become  more  subtle,  other  colors  will  be 
developed,  possessed  of  a  delicacy  and  richness  indescribable 
now,  for  as  yet  man  can  not  comprehend  the  possibilities  of 
education  beyond  the  limits  of  his  present  condition." 


208  ETIDORHPA. 

During  this  period  of  conversation  we  skirted  the  richly 
colored  blnff  with  a  rapid  motion,  and  at  last  shot  beyond  it, 
as  with  a  flasli,  into  seeming  vacancy.  I  was  sitting  with 
my  gaze  directed  toward  the  bluff,  and  when  it  instantly 
disappeared,  I  rubbed  my  eyes  to  convince  myself  of  their 
truthfulness,  and  as  I  did  so  our  boat  came  gradually  to  a  stand 
on  the  edge  of  what  appeared  to  be  an  unfathomable  abyss. 
Beneath  me  on  the  side  where  had  risen  the  bluff  that  disap- 
peared so  abruptly,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was  an  absolute 
void.  To  our  right,  and  before  and  behind  us,  stretched  the 
surface  of  that  great  smooth  lake  on  whose  bosom  we  rested. 
To  our  left,  our  boat  brushing  its  rim,  a  narrow  ledge,  a  contin- 
uation of  the  black,  glass-like  material,  reached  only  a  foot  above 
the  water,  and  beyond  this  narrow  brink  the  mass  descended 
perpendicularly  to  seemingly  infinite  depths.  Involuntarily  I 
grasped  the  sides  of  the  boat,  and  recoiled  from  the  frightful 
chasm,  over  which  I  had  been  so  suddenly  suspended,  and 
which  exceeded  anything  of  a  similar  description  that  I  had 
ever  seen.  The  immeasurable  depth  of  the  abyss,  in  connection 
with  the  apparently  frail  barrier  that  held  the  great  lake  in  its 
bounds,  caused  me  to  shudder  and  shrink  back,  and  my  brain 
reeled  in  dizzy  fright.  An  inexplicable  attraction,  however, 
notwithstanding  my  dread,  held  me  spell-bound,  and  although  I 
struggled  to  shut  out  that  view,  the  endeavor  failed.  I  seemed 
to  be  drawn  by  an  irresistible  power,  and  yet  I  shuddered  at  the 
awful  majesty  of  that  yawning  gulf  which  threatened  to  end  the 
world  on  which  I  then  existed.  Fascinated,  entranced,  I  could 
not  help  gazing,  I  knew  not  how  long,  down,  down  into  that 
fathomless,  silent  profundity.  Composing  myself,  I  turned  a 
questioning  glance  on  my  guide. 

He  informed  me  that  this  hard,  glass-like  dam,  confined  the 
waters  of  the  slowly  rising  lake  that  we  were  sailing  over,  and 
wdiich  finally  would  rise  high  enough  to  overflow  the  barrier. 

"The  cycle  of  the  periodic  overflow  is  measured  by  great 
intervals,"  he  said ;  "  centuries  are  required  to  raise  the  level  of 
the  lake  a  fraction  of  an  inch,  and  thousands  of  years  may  elapse 
before  its  surface  will  again  reach  the  top  of  the  adamantine 
wall.  Then,  governed  by  the  law  that  attracts  a  liquid  to  itself, 
and  heaps  the  teaspoon  with  liquid,  the  water  of  the  quiet  lake 


THE   WALL   DESCENDED   PERPENDICULARLY   TO   SEEMINGLY 
INFINITE    DEPTHS." 


A  LESSON  ON  VOLCANOES.  211 

piles  upon  this  narrow  wall,  forming  a  ledge  along  its  summit. 
Finally  the  superimposed  surface  water  gives  way,  and  a  skim 
of  water  pours  over  into  the  abyss." 

He  paused ;  I  leaned  over  and  meditated,  for  I  had  now 
accustomed  myself  to  the  situation. 

"There  is  no  bottom,"  I  exclaimed, 

"  Upon  the  contrary,"  he  answered,  "  the  bottom  is  less  than 
ten  miles  beneath  us,  and  is  a  great  funnel-shaped  orifice,  the 
neck  of  the  funnel  reaching  first  down  and  then  upward  from  us 
diagonally  toward  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Although  the  light 
by  which  we  are  enveloped  is  bright,  yet  it  is  deficient  in  pene- 
trating power,  and  is  not  capable  of  giving  the  contour  of  objects 
even  five  miles  away,  hence  the  chasm  seems  bottomless,  and 
the  gulf  measureless." 

"Is  it  not  natural  to  suppose  that  a  mass  of  water  like  this 
great  lake  would  overflow  the  barrier  immediately,  as  soon  as 
the  surface  reached  the  upper  edge,  for  the  pressure  of  the 
immense  volume  must  be  beyond  calculation." 

"  No,  for  it  is  height,  not  expanse,  which,  as  hydrostatic 
engineers  understand,  governs  the  pressure  of  water.  A  liquid 
column,  one  foot  in  width,  would  press  against  the  retaining  dam 
with  the  force  of  a  body  of  the  same  liquid,  the  same  depth,  one 
thousand  miles  in  extent.  Then  the  decrease  of  gravity  here 
permits  the  molecular  attraction  of  the  water's  mole- 
cules to  exert  itself  more  forcibly  than  would  be  the 
<:ase  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  this  holds  the 
liquid  mass  together  more  firmly." 

"  See,"  he  observed,  and  dipping  his  finger  into 
the  water  he  held  it  before  him  with  a  drop  of  water 
attached  thereto  (Figure  27),  the  globule  being  of 
considerable  size,  and  lengthened  as  though  it  con- 
sisted of  some  glutinous  liquid. 

"  How  can  a  thin  stratum  of  water  give  rise  to  a 
volcanic  eruption ?"  I  next  queried.  "There  seems 
to  be  no  melted  rock,  no  evidence  of  intense  heat, 
either  beneath  or  about  us."  fig.  27. 

"  I  informed  you  some  time  ago  that  I  would  partially  explain 
these  facts.  Know  then,  that  the  theories  of  man  concerning 
Tolcanic  eruptions,  in  connection  with  a  molten  interior  of  the 


212  ETIDORHPA. 

earth,  are  such  as  are  evolved  in  io^norance  of  even  the  sub- 
surface of  the  globe.  The  earth's  interior  is  to  mankind  a 
sealed  chamber,  and  the  wise  men  who  elucidate  the  curious 
theories  concerning  natural  phenomena  occurring  therein  are 
forced  to  draw  entirely  upon  their  imagination.  Few  persons 
realize  the  paucity  of  data  at  the  command  of  workers  in 
science.  Theories  concerning  the  earth  are  formulated  from  so 
little  real  knowledge  of  that  body,  that  our  science  may  be  said 
to  be  all  theoryy  with  scarcely  a  trace  of  actual  e\idcnce  to 
support  it.  If  a  globe  ten  inches  in  diameter  be  covered  with 
a  sheet  of  paper,  such  as  I  hold  in  my  hand,  the  thickness  of  that 
sheet  will  be  greater  in  proportion  to  that  of  such  a  globe  than 
the  depth  men  have  explored  within  the  earth  is  compared  with 
the  thickness  of  the  crust  of  the  earth.  The  outer  surface  of  a 
pencil  line  represents  the  surface  of  the  earth ;  the  inner  surface 
of  the  line  represents  the  depth  of  man's  explorations ;  the  high- 
est mountain  would  be  represented  by  a  comma  resting  on  the 
line.  The  geologist  studies  the  substances  that  are  thrust  from 
the  crater  of  an  active  volcano,  and  from  this  makes  conjectures 
regarding  the  strata  beneath,  and  the  force  that  casts  the 
excretions  out.  The  results  must  wnth  men,  therefore,  furnish 
evidence  from  which  to  explain  the  cause.  It  is  as  though  an 
anatomist  would  form  his  idea  of  the  anatomy  of  the  liver  by 
the  secretion  thrown  out  of  that  organ,  or  of  the  lung  texture 
by  the  breath  and  sputum.  In  fact,  volcanoes  are  of  several 
descriptions,  and  usually  are  extremely  superficial.  This  lake, 
the  surface  of  which  is  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  under- 
ground, is  the  mother  of  an  exceptionally  deep  one.  When 
the  water  pours  over  this  ledge  it  strikes  an  element  below 
us,  the  metallic  base  of  salt,  which  lies  in  great  masses  in  some 
portions  of  the  earth's  crust.  *  Then  an  immediate  chemical 
reaction  ensues,  the  water  is  dissociated,  intense  heat  results, 
part  of  the  water  combines  with  the  metal,  part  is  vaporized 
as  steam,  while  part  escapes  as  an  inflammable  gas.  The 
sudden  liberation  of  these  gases  causes  an  irregular  pressure 
of  vapor  on  the  surface  of  the  lake,  the  result  being  a  throb- 
bing and  rebounding  of  the  attenuated  atmosphere  above,  which, 


«'Thisview  is  supported  in  theory  by  a  note  I  believe  to  have  somewhere  seen  recorded. 
Elsewhere  other  bases  are  mentioned  also.— J.  U.  I,. 


A  LESSON  ON  VOLCANOES.  213 

in  gigantic  waves,  like  swelling  tides,  dashes  great  volumes 
of  water  over  the  ledge  beside  ns,  and  into  the  depth  below. 
This  water  in  turn  reacts  on  fresh  portions  of  the  metallic  base, 
and  the  reflex  action  increases  the  vapor  discharges,  and  as  a 
consequence  the  chamber  we  are  in  becomes  a  gasometer,  con- 
taining vapors  of  unequal  gas  pressures,  and  the  resultant 
agitation  of  the  lake  from  the  turmoil  continues,  and  the  pulsa- 
tions are  repeated  until  the  surface  of  the  lake  is  lowered  to 
such  a  degree  as  at  last  to  prevent  the  water  from  overflowing 
the  barrier.  Finally  the  lake  quiets  itself,  the  gases  slowly 
disappear  by  earth  absorption,  and  by  escape  from  the  volcanic 
exit,  and  for  an  unrecorded  period  of  time  thereafter  the  surface 
of  the  lake  continues  to  rise  slowly  as  it  is  doing  now." 

"  But  wdiat  has  this  phenomenon  to  do  with  the  volcano?" 

"  It  produces  the  eruption ;  the  water  that  rushes  down  into 
the  chasm,  partly  as  steam,  partly  as  gas,  is  forced  onward  and 
upward  through  a  crevice  that  leads  to  the  old  crater  of  the 
presumed  extinct  but  periodically  active  Mount  Epomeo.  These 
gases  are  intensely  heated,  and  they  move  with  fearful  velocity. 
They  tear  off  great  masses  of  stone,  which  the  resultant  energy 
disturbances,  pressure,  gas,  and  friction,  redden  with  heat.  The 
mixture  of  gases  from  the  decomposed  water  is  in  large  amount, 
is  burning  and  exploding,  and  in  this  fiery  furnace  amid  such 
convulsions  as  have  been  described,  the  adjacent  earth  substance 
is  fused,  and  even  clay  is  melted,  and  carried  on  with  the  fiery 
blast.  Finally  the  current  reaches  the  earth's  surface  through 
the  funnel  passage,  the  apex  of  which  is  a  volcano — the  blast 
described  a  volcanic  eruption." 

"One  thing  is  still  obscure  in  my  mind,"  I  said.  "You 
assert  that  the  reaction  which  follows  the  contact  of  the  flowing 
water  and  metallic  bases  in  the  crevice  below  us  liberates  the 
explosive  gases,  and  also  volumes  of  vapor  of  water.  These 
gases  rush,  you  say,  and  produce  a  volcanic  eruption  in  a  distant 
part  of  the  crust  of  the  earth.  I  can  not  understand  why  they 
do  not  rush  backward  as  well,  and  produce  another  eruption  in 
Kentucky.  Surely  the  pressure  of  a  gas  in  confinement  is  the 
same  in  all  directions,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "but  the  conditions  in  the  different 
directions  are   dissimilar.      In   the   direction  of   the   Kentucky 


214  ETIDORHPA. 

cavern,  the  passage  is  tortuous,  and  often  contracts  to  a  narrow- 
crevice.  In  one  place  near  the  cavern's  moiith,  as  you  will 
remember,  we  had  to  dive  beneath  the  surface  of  a  stream  of 
water.  That  stratum  of  water  as  effectually  closed  the  exit  from 
the  earth  as  the  stopper  prevents  water  escaping  from  a  bottle. 
Between  the  point  we  now  occupy  and  that  w^ater  stopper,  rest^ 
thousands  of  miles  of  quiescent  air.  The  inertia  of  a  thousand 
miles  of  air  is  great  beyond  your  comprehension.  To  move  that 
column  of  air  by  pushing  against  this  end  of  it,  and  thus  shov- 
ing it  instantly  out  of  the  other  end,  would  require  greater  force 
than  would  burst  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  inelastic 
stone  above  us.  Then,  the  friction  of  the  sides  is  another  thing 
that  prevents  its  accomplishment.  While  a  gradually  applied 
pressure  would  in  time  overcome  both  the  inertia  of  the  air  and 
the  friction  of  the  stone  passages,  it  would  take  a  supply  of 
energy  greater  than  you  can  imagine  to  start  into  motion  the 
elastic  mass  that  stands  as  solid  and  immovable  as  a  sentinel  of 
adamant,  between  the  cavern  you  entered,  and  the  spot  we  now 
occupy.  Time  and  energy  combined  would  be  able  to  accomplish 
the  result,  but  not  under  present  conditions. 

"In  the  other  direction  a  broad  open  channel  reaches  directly 
to  and  connects  with  the  volcanic  shaft.  Through  this  channel 
the  air  is  in  motion,  moving  towards  the  extinct  crater,  being 
supplied  from  another  surface  orifice.  The  gases  liberated  in 
the  manner  I  have  described,  naturally  follow  the  line  of  least 
resistance.  They  turn  at  once  away  from  the  inert  mass  of  air 
that  rests  behind  us,  and  move  with  increasing  velocity  towards 
the  volcanic  exit.  Before  the  pressure  that  might  be  exerted 
towards  the  Kentucky  cavern  would  have  more  than  compressed 
the  intervening  column  of  air  enough  to  raise  the  w^ater  of  a  well 
from  its  usual  level  to  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  velocity  in  the 
other  direction  would  have  augmented  prodigiously,  and  with  its 
increased  rapidity  a  suction  would  follow  more  than  sufficient  to 
consume  the  increasingly  abundant  gases  from  behind." 

"Volcanoes  are  therefore  local,  and  the  interior  of  the  earth 
is  not  a  molten  mass  as  I  have  been  taught,"  I  exclaimed. 

He  answered:  "If  men  were  far  enough  along  in  their 
thought  journey  (for  the  evolution  of  the  mental  side  of  man  is 
a  journey  in  the   world  of   thought),   they  would   avoid   such 


A  LESSON  ON  VOLCANOES.  215 

theories  as  that  which  ascribes  a  molten  interior  to  the  earth. 
Volcanoes  are  superficial.  They  are  as  a  rule,  when  in  activity 
but  little  blisters  or  excoriations  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
although  their  underground  connections  may  be  extensive. 
Some  of  them  are  in  a  continual  fret  with  frequent  eruptions, 
others,  like  the  one  under  consideration,  awaken  only  after  great 
periods  of  time.  The  entire  surface  of  this  globe  has  been  or  will 
be  subject  to  volcanic  action.  The  phenomenon  is  one  of  the 
steps  in  the  world-making,  matter-leveling  process.  When  the 
deposit  of  substances  that  I  have  indicated,  and  of  which  much 
of  the  earth's  interior  is  composed,  the  bases  of  salt,  potash,  and 
lime  and  clay  is  exhausted,  there  will  be  no  further  volcanic 
action  from  this  cause,  and  in  some  places,  this  deposit  has 
already  disappeared,  or  is  covered  deeply  by  layers  of  earth  that 
serve  as  a  protection." 

"Is  water,  then,  the  universal  cause  of  volcanoes?" 

"  Water  and  air  together  cause  most  of  them.  The  action  of 
water  and  its  vapor  produces  from  metallic  space  dust,  limestone, 
and  clay  soil,  potash  and  soda  salts.  This  perfectly  rational  and 
natural  action  must  continue  as  long  as  there  is  water  above, 
and  free  elementary  bases  in  contact  with  the  earth  bubbles. 
Volcanoes,  earthquakes,  geysers,  mud  springs,  and  hot  springs, 
are  the  natural  result  of  that  reaction.  Mountains  are  thereby 
forming  by  upheavals  from  beneath,  and  the  corresponding 
surface  valleys  are  consequently  filling  up,  either  by  the  slow 
deposit  of  the  matter  from  the  saline  water  of  hot  springs, 
or  by  the  sudden  eruption  of  a  new  or  presumably  extinct 
volcano." 

"What  would  happen  if  a  crevice  in  the  bottom  of  the  ocean 
should  conduct  the  waters  of  the  ocean  into  a  deposit  of  metallic 
bases?" 

"  That  often  occurs,"  was  the  reply ;  "  a  volcanic  wave  results, 
and  a  volcano  may  thus  rise  from  the  ocean's  depths." 

"  Is  there  any  danger  to  the  earth  itself?  May  it  not  be 
riven  into  fragments  from  such  a  convulsion?"  I  hesitatingly 
questioned. 

"No;  while  the  configuration  of  continents  is  continually 
being  altered,  each  disturbance  must  be  practically  superficial, 
and  of  limited  area." 


•216  RTIDORHPA. 

"But,"  I  persisted,  "the  rigid,  solid  earth  may  be  blown  to 
fragments;  in  such  convulsions  a  result  like  that  seems  not 
impossible." 

"  You  argue  from  an  erroneous  hypothesis.  The  earth  is 
neither  rigid  nor  solid." 

"True,"  I  answered.  "  If  it  were  solid  I  could  not  be  a 
hundred  miles  beneath  its  surface  in  conversation  with  another 
being ;  but  there  can  not  be  many  such  cavities  as  that  which 
we  are  now  traversing,  and  they  can  not  surely  extend  entirely 
through  its  mass ;  the  great  weight  of  the  superincumbent 
material  would  crush  together  the  strongest  materials,  if  a  globe 
as  large  as  our  earth  were  extensively  honeycombed  in  this 
manner." 

"  Quite  the  contrary,"  he  replied ;  "  and  here  let  me,  for  the 
first  time,  enlighten  you  as  to  the  interior  structure  of  the 
terrestrial  globe.  The  earth-forming  principle  consists  of  an 
invisible  sphere  of  energy  that,  spinning  through  space,  supports 
the  space  dust  which  collects  on  it,  as  dust  on  a  bubble.  By 
gradual  accumulation  of  substance  on  that  sphere  a  hollow 
ball  has  resulted,  on  the  outer  surface  of  which  }ou  have 
hitherto  dwelt.  The  crust  of  the  earth  is  comparatively  thin, 
not  more  than  eight  hundred  miles  in  average  thickness,  and  is 
held  in  position  by  the  central  sphere  of  energy  that  now  exists 
at  a  distance  about  seven  hundred  miles  beneath  the  ocean 
level.  The  force  inherent  to  this  sphere  manifests  itself  upon 
the  matter  which  it  supports  on  both  sides,  rendering  matter  the 
lighter  the  nearer  it  lies  to  the  center  sphere.  In  other  words, 
let  me  say  to  you:  "The  crust,  or  shell,  which  I  have  just 
described  as  being  but  about  eight  hundred  miles  in  thickness, 
is  firm  and  solid  on  both  its  convex  and  concave  surface,  but 
gradually  loses  in  weight,  whether  we  penetrate  from  the  outer 
surface  toward  the  center,  or  from  any  point  of  the  inner  surface 
towards  the  outside,  initil  at  the  central  sphere  matter  has  no 
weight  at  all.     Do  you  conceive  my  meaning?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "I  understand  you  perfectly." 

After  a  pause  my  pilot  asked  me  abruptly : 

"  What  do  you  most  desire?" 

The  question  caused  my  mind  to  revert  instantly  to  my  old 
home  on  the  earth  above  me,  and  although  I  felt  the  hope  of 


A  LP:SS0N  on  volcanoes.  217 

returning  to  it  spring  up  in  my  heart,  the  force  of  habit  caused 
me  invokmtarily  to  answer,  "  More  light!" 

"  More  light  being  your  desire,  you  shall  receive  it." 

Obedient  to  his  touch,  the  bow  of  the  boat  turned  from  the 
gulf  we  had  been  considering  towards  the  center  of  the  lake ; 
the  responsive  craft  leaped  forward,  and  in  an  instant  the  obsidian 
parapet  disappeared  behind  us.  On  and  over  the  trackless  waste 
of  glass-like  water  we  sped,  until  the  dead  silence  became  pain- 
fully oppressive,  and  I  asked : 

"Whither  are  we  bound?" 

"  Towards  the  east." 

The  well-timed  answer  raised  my  spirits;  I  thought  again 
that  in  this  man,  despite  his  repulsive  shape,  I  beheld  a  friend,  a 
brother;  suspicion  vanished,  and  my  courage  rose.  He  touched 
the  lever,  and  the  craft,  subject  to  his  will,  nearly  rose  from  the 
Avater,  and  sped  with  amazing  velocity,  as  was  evident  from  the 
appearance  of  the  luminous  road  behind  us.  So  rapid  was  our 
flight  that  the  wake  of  the  boat  seemed  as  if  made  of  rigid 
parallel  lines  that  disappeared  in  the  distance,  too  quick  for  the 
eye  to  catch  the  tremor. 

Continuing  his  conversation,  my  companion  informed  me 
that  he  had  now  directed  the  bark  toward  a  point  east  of  the 
spot  where  we  struck  the  shore,  after  crossing  the  lake,  in  order 
that  we  might  continue  our  journey  downward,  diagonally  to 
the  under  surface  of  the  earth  crust. 

"This  recent  digression  from  our  journey  proper,"  said  he, 
"has  been  made  to  acquaint  you  with  a  subject,  regarding  which 
you  have  exhibited  a  curiosity,  and  about  which  you  have  hereto- 
fore been  misinformed ;  now  you  understand  more  clearly  part 
of  the  philosophy  of  volcanoes  and  earthquakes.  You  have  yet 
much  to  learn  in  connection  with  allied  phenomena,  but  this 
study  of  the  crude  exhibition  of  force-disturbed  matter,  the 
manipulation  of  which  is  familiar  to  man  under  the  above 
names,  is  an  introduction  to  the  more  wonderful  study  destined 
yet  to  be  a  part  of  your  field,  an  investigation  of  quiescent 
matter,  and  pure  motion." 

"I  can  not  comprehend  you,"  I  replied,  "as  I  stated  once 
before  when  you  referred  to  what  you  designated  as  pure 
motion." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MATTER   IS   RETARDED   MOTION. 

"  It  is  possible  for  you  to  imagine,  is  it  not,  that  a  continuous 
volley  of  iron  balls  were  passing  near  you  in  one  line,  in  a  hori- 
zontal direction  with  considerable  velocity.  Suppose  that  a 
pane  of  glass  were  to  be  gradually  moved  so  that  a  corner  of 
it  would  be  struck  by  one  of  the  balls;  then  the  entire  sheet 
of  glass  would  be  shivered  by  the  concussion,  even  though  the 
bullet  struck  but  a  single  spot  of  glass,  the  point  of  contact 
covering  only  a  small  area.  Imagine  now  that  the  velocity  of 
the  volley  of  bullets  be  increased  a  thousand  fold ;  then  a  plate 
of  glass  thrust  into  their  track  would  be  smoothly  cut,  as  though 
with  a  file  that  would  gnaw  its  way  without  producing  a  single 
radiating  fracture.  A  person  standing  near  the  volley  would 
now  hear  a  deep  purr  or  growling  sound,  caused  by  the  friction 
between  the  bullets  and  the  air.  Increase  gradually  the  rapidity 
of  their  motion,  and  this  growl  would  become  more  acute, 
passing  from  a  deep,  low  murmur,  into  one  less  grave,  and  as 
the  velocity  increased,  the  tone  would  become  sharper,  and  at 
last  piercingly  shrill.  Increase  now  the  rapidity  of  the  train  of 
bullets  again,  and  again  the  notes  would  decrease  in  turn,  passing 
back  again  successively  through  the  several  keys  that  had  pre- 
ceded, and  finally  would  reach  the  low  growl  which  first  struck 
the  ear,  and  with  a  further  increase  of  speed  silence  would  ensue, 
silence  evermore,  regardless  of  increasing  velocity.*  From 
these  hundreds  of  miles  in  a  second  at  which  the  volley  is  now 
passing,  let  the  rapidity  be  augmented  a  thousand  times,  reaching 
in  their  flight  into  millions  of  miles  each  second,  and  to  the  eye, 
from  the  point  where  the  sound  disappeared,  as  the  velocity 
increased,  a  dim  redness  would  appear,  a  glow  just  perceptible. 


"A  scientific  critic  seems  to  think  that  the  shrill  cry  would  cease  instantly  and  not  gradu- 
ally.    However,  science  has  been  at  fanlt  more  than  once,  and  I  do  not  care  to  take  liberties 
with  this  statement.— J.  U.  I.,. 
'J18 


mattp:r  IvS  retarded  motion.  219 

indicating  to  the  sense  of  sight,  by  a  continuous  line,  the  track 
of  the  moving  missiles.  To  all  appearance,  the  line  would  be 
as  uniform  as  an  illuminated  pencil  mark,  even  though  the 
several  integral  bullets  of  the  trail  might  be  separated  one  from 
another  by  miles  of  space.  Let  a  pane  of  glass  now  be  thrust 
across  their  track,  and  from  the  point  of  contact  a  shower  of 
sparks  would  fly,  and  the  edges  of  glass  close  to  either  side  of 
the  orifice  would  be  shown,  on  withdrawing  the  glass,  to  have 
been  fused.  Conceive  now  that  the  velocity  of  the  bullets  be 
doubled  and  trebled,  again  and  again,  the  line  of  red  light 
becomes  brighter,  then  brilliant,  and  finally  as  the  velocity 
increases,  at  a  certain  point  pure  white  results,  and  to  man's 
sense  the  trail  would  now  be  a  continuous  something,  as  solid  as 
a  bar  of  metal  if  at  a  white  heat,  and  (even  if  the  bullets  were  a 
thousand  miles  apart)  man  could  not  bring  proof  of  their  separate 
existence  to  his  senses.  That  portion  of  a  pane  of  glass  or  other 
substance,  even  steel  or  adamant,  which  should  cross  its  track 
now  would  simply  melt  away,  the  portion  excised  and  carried  out 
of  that  pathway  neither  showing  itself  as  scintillations,  nor  as 
fragments  of  matter.  The  solid  would  instantly  liquefy,  and 
would  spread  itself  as  a  thin  film  over  the  surface  of  each  ball  of 
that  white,  hot  mass  of  fleeing  metal,  now  to  all  essential 
conditions  as  uniform  as  a  bar  of  iron.  Madly  increase  the 
velocity  to  millions  upon  millions  of  miles  per  second,  and  the 
heat  will  disappear  gradually  as  did  the  sound,  while  the  bright 
light  will  pass  backward  successively  through  the  primary 
shades  of  color  that  are  now  known  to  man,  beginning  with 
violet,  and  ending  with  red,  and  as  the  red  fades  away  the  train 
of  bullets  will  disappear  to  the  sense  of  man.  Neither  light  nor 
sound  now  accompanies  the  volley,  neither  the  human  eye  nor 
the  human  ear  can  perceive  its  presence.  Drop  a  pane  of  glass  or 
any  other  object  edgewise  through  it,  and  it  gives  to  the  sense  of 
man  no  evidence ;  the  molecules  of  the  glass  separate  from  in 
front  to  close  in  from  behind,  and  the  moving  train  passes  through 
it  as  freely  as  light,  leaving  the  surface  of  the  glass  unaffected." 
"Hold,"  I  interrupted;  "that  would  be  as  one  quality  of 
matter  passing  through  another  quality  of  matter  without 
disturbance  to  either,  and  it  is  a  law  in  physics  that  two 
substances  can  not  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same  time." 


220  ETIDORHPA. 

"  That  law  holds  good  as  man  understands  the  subject,  but 
bullets  are  no  longer  matter.  Motion  of  mass  was  first  changed 
into  motion  of  molecules,  and  motion  of  molecule  became  finally 
augmented  into  motion  of  free  force  entities  as  the  bullets  dis- 
integrated into  molecular  corpuscles,  and  then  were  dissociated, 
atoms  resulting.  At  this  last  point  the  sense  of  vision,  and  of 
touch,  ceased  to  be  affected  by  that  moving  column  (neither 
matter  nor  force),  and  at  the  next  jump  in  velocity  the  atoms 
themselves  disappeared,  and  free  intangible  motion  resulted — 
nothing,  vacanc}'. 

"  This  result  is  the  all-pervading  spirit  of  space  (the  ether  of 
mankind),  as  solid  as  adamant  and  as  mobile  as  vacuity.  If  you 
can  reverse  the  order  of  this  phenomenon,  and  imagine  an 
irregular  retardation  of  the  rapidity  of  such  atomic  motion,  you 
can  read  the  story  of  the  formation  of  the  material  universe. 
Follow  the  chain  backward,  and  with  the  decrease  of  velocity, 
motion  becomes  tangible  matter  again,  and  in  accordance  with 
conditions  governing  the  change  of  motion  into  matter,  from 
time  to  time  the  various  elements  successively  appear.  The 
planets  may  grow  without  and  within,  and  ethereal  space  can 
o-enerate  elemental  dirt.  If  you  can  conceive  of  an  intermediate 
condition  whereby  pure  space  motion  becomes  partly  tangible, 
and  yet  is  not  gross  enough  to  be  earthy  matter,  you  can  imagine 
how  such  forces  as  man  is  acquainted  with,  light,  heat,  electric- 
itv,  magnetism,  or  gravity  even  are  produced,  for  these  are  also 
disturbances  in  space  motion.  It  should  be  easily  understood 
that,  according  to  the  same  simple  principle,  other  elements  and 
unknown  forces  as  well,  now  imperceptible  to  man's  limited 
faculties,  could  be  and  are  formed  outside  and  inside  his  field  of 
perception." 

"  I  fear  that  I  can  not  comprehend  all  this,"  I  answered. 

"  So  I  feared,  and  perhaps  I  have  given  you  this  lesson  too 
soon,  although  some  time  ago  you  asked  me  to  teach  you  con- 
cerning the  assertion  that  electricity,  light,  heat,  magnetism,  and 
gravity  are  disturbances,  and  you  said,  'Disturbances  of  what?' 
Think  the  lesson  over,  and  you  will  perceive  that  it  is  easy. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  time  will  come  when  we  will  be  able  to 
glance  beneath  the  rough,  material,  earth  surface  knowledge  that 
man  has  acquired,  and  experience  the  mind  expansion  that  leads 


MATTER  IS  RETARDED  MOTION.  221 

to  the  blissful  insight  possessed  by  superior  beings  who  do  not 
have  to  contend  with  the  rasping  elements  that  encompass  all 
who  dwell  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth," 

I  pondered  over  these  words,  and  a  vague  light,  an  undefined, 
inexpressible  something  that  I  could  not  put  into  words  broke 
into  my  mind;  T  inferred  that  we  were  destined  to  meet  with 
persons,  or  existences,  possessed  of  new  senses,  of  a  mind 
development  that  man  had  not  reached,  and  I  was  on  the  point 
of  questioning  my  pilot  when  the  motion  of  the  boat  was 
suspended,  land  appeared  ahead,  we  drew  up  to  it,  and  disem- 
barked. Lifting  the  boat  from  the  water  my  guide  placed  it  on 
land  at  the  edge  of  the  motionless  lake,  and  we  resumed  our 
journey.  The  scenery  seemed  but  little  changed  from  that  of 
the  latter  part  of  our  previous  line  of  travel  down  the  inclined 
plane  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake  that  we  had  crossed.  The 
direction  was  still  downward  after  leaving  the  high  ridge  that 
bordered  the  edge  of  the  lake,  the  floor  of  the  cavern  being 
usually  smooth,  although  occasionally  it  was  rough  and  cov- 
ered with  stony  debris.  The  mysterious  light  grew  perceptibly 
brighter  as  we  progressed,  the  fog-like  halo  previously  mentioned 
became  less  dense,  and  the  ring  of  obscurity  widened  rapidly. 
I  could  distinctly  perceive  objects  at  a  great  distance.  I  turned 
to  my  companion  to  ask  why  this  was,  and  he  replied : 

"  Because  we  are  leaving  one  of  the  undiscovered  conditions 
of  the  upper  atmosphere  that  disturbs  the  sunlight." 

"  Do  you  say  that  the  atmosphere  is  composed  of  substances 
unknown  to  man?" 

"Yes;  several  of  them  are  gases,  and  others  are  qualities  of 
space  condition,  neither  gas,  liquid,  nor  solid.*  One  particularly 
interferes  with  light  in  its  passage.  It  is  an  entity  that  is  not 
moved  by  the  motion  of  the  air,  and  is  unequally  distributed 
over  the  earth's  surface.  As  we  ascend  above  the  earth  it 
decreases,  so  it  does  as  we  descend  into  it.  It  is  not  vapor  of 
water,  is  neither  smoke,  nor  a  true  gas,  and  is  as  yet  sensible  to 

-This  has  since  been  partly  supported  by  the  discovery  of  the  element  Argon.  However, 
the  statement  has  been  recorded  many  years.  Miss  Ella  Burbige,  stenographer,  Newport, 
Ky.,  copied  the  original  in  18S7;  Mr.  S.  D.  Rouse,  attorney,  Covington,  Ky.,  read  it  in  1889;  Mr. 
Russell  Errett,  editor  of  the  Christian  Standard,  in  1S90,  and  Mr.  H.  C.  Meader,  President  of 
the  American  Ticket  Brokers'  Association,  in  1S92.  It  seems  proper  to  make  this  explanation 
in  order  to  absolve  the  author  from  any  charge  of  plagiarism^  for  each  of  these  persons  will 
recall  distinctly  this  improbable  [thenl  assertion. — ^J.  U.  L. 


222  ETIDORIIPA. 

man  only  by  its  power  of  niodifNing  the  intensity  of  light.  It 
has  no  color,  is  chemically  inactive,  and  yet  modifies  the  sun's 
rays  so  as  to  blot  objects  from  view  at  a  comparatively  small  dis- 
tance from  a  person  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  That  this  fact  is 
known  to  man  is  evident  from  the  knowledge  he  possesses  of 
the  difference  in  the  power  of  his  organs  of  vision  at  different 
parts  of  the  earth.  His  sight  is  especially  acute  on  the  table 
lands  of  the  Western  Territories." 

"  I  have  been  told,"  I  answered,  "  that  vajDor  of  water  causes 
this  obscuration,  or  absorption,  of  light." 

"Vapor  of  water,  unless  in  strata  of  different  densities,  is 
absolutely  transparent,  and  presents  no  obstacle  to  the  passage 
of  light,"  he  said.  "  When  vapor  obstructs  light  it  is  owing  to 
impurities  contained  in  it,  to  currents  of  varying  densities,  or 
wave  motions,  or  to  a  mechanical  mixture  of  condensed  water 
and  air,  whereby  multitudes  of  tiny  globular  water  surfaces  are 
produced.  Pure  vapor  of  water,  free  from  motion,  is  passive  to 
the  sunlight." 

"  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  a  substance  such  as  you  describe, 
or  that  any  constituent  of  the  air,  can  have  escaped  the  percep- 
tion of  the  chemist,"  I  replied. 

In,  as  I  thought,  a  facetious  manner  he  repeated  after  me 
the  word  "  chemist,"  and  continued : 

"  Have  chemists  detected  the  ether  of  Aristotle,  that  you 
have  mentioned,  and  I  have  defined,  which  scientists  neverthe- 
less accept  pervades  all  space  and  every  description  of  matter, 
and  that  I  have  told  you  is  really  matter  itself  changed  into 
ultra  atomic  motion?  Have  chemists  explained  why  one  object 
is  transparent,  and  another  of  equal  weight  and  solidity  is 
opaque?  Have  chemists  told  you  why  vermillion  is  red  and 
indigo  is  blue  (the  statement  that  they  respectively  reflect  these 
rays  of  light  is  not  an  explanation  of  the  cause  for  such  action)  ? 
Have  chemists  told  you  why  the  prism  disarranges  or  distorts 
sunlight  to  produce  the  abnormal  hues  that  men  assume  compose 
elementary  rays  of  light?  Have  chemists  explained  anything 
concerning  the  why  or  wherefore  of  the  attributes  of  matter,  or 
force,  or  even  proven  that  the  so-called  primary  forms  of  matter, 
or  elements,  are  not  compounds?  Upon  the  contrary,  does 
not  the  evolution  that  results  in  the  recorded  discoveries  of  the 


MATTER  IS  RETARDED  MOTION.  223 

chemist  foretell,  or  at  least  indicate,  the  possible  future  of  the  art, 
and  promise  that  surrounding  mysteries  are  yet  to  be  developed 
and  expanded  into  open  truths,  thus  elaborating  hidden  forces ; 
and  that  other  forms  of  matter  and  unseen  force  expressions, 
are  destined  to  spring  into  existence  as  the  sciences  progress? 
The  chemist  of  to-day  is  groping  in  darkness;  he  is  a  novice 
as  compared  with  the  elaborated  chemist  of  the  near  future ;  the 
imperfectly  seen  of  the  present,  the  silent  and  unsuspected,  will 
become  distinctly  visible  in  a  time  that  is  to  come,  and  a  bright- 
ening of  the  intellect  by  these  successively  upward  steps,  up 
stairs  of  science,  will,  if  science  serves  herself  best,  broaden  the 
mind  and  give  power  to  the  imagination,  resulting  finally  in" — 

He  hesitated. 

"  Go  on,"  I  said. 

"  The  passage  of  mortal  man,  with  the  faculties  of  man 
intact,  into  communion  with  the  spirit  world." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"A  STUDY  OF  SCIKNCE   IS  A  STUDY   OF  GOD." — COMMUNING  WITH 

ANGELS. 

"  This  is  incredible,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  You  need  not  be  astonished,"  he  answered.  "  Is  there  any 
arr^nment  that  can  be  offered  to  controvert  the  assertion  that 
man  is  ignorant  of  many  natural  laws?" 

"  I  can  offer  none." 

"  Is  there  any  doubt  that  a  force,  distinct  and  separate  from 
matter,  influences  matter  and  vivifies  it  into  a  living  personality?" 

"I  do  not  deny  that  there  is  such  force." 

"What  then  should  prevent  this  force  from  existing  separate 
from  the  body  if  it  be  capable  of  existing  in  it?" 

"I  can  not  argue  against  such  a  position." 

"  If,  as  is  hoped  and  believed  by  the  majority  of  mankind, 
even  though  some  try  to  deny  the  fact,  it  is  possible  for  man  to 
exist  as  an  association  of  earth  matters,  linked  to  a  personal 
spirit  force,  the  soul,  and  for  the  spirit  force,  after  the  death 
of  the  body,  to  exist  independent  of  the  grosser  attributes  of 
man,  free  from  his  mortal  body,  is  it  not  reasonable  to  infer  that 
the  spirit,  while  it  is  still  in  man  and  linked  to  his  body,  may  be 
educated  and  developed  so  as,  under  favorable  conditions,  to 
meet  and  communicate  with  other  spirits  that  have  been  previ- 
ously liberated  from  earthly  bondage?" 

"I  submit,"  I  answered;  "but  you  shock  my  sensibilities 
when  you  thus  imply  that  by  cold,  scientific  investigation  we  can 
place  ourselves  in  a  position  to  meet  the  unseen  spirit  world  " — 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  hesitate. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"To  commune  with  the  angels,"  I  answered. 

"A  stiidy  of  true  science  is  a  study  of  God,"  he  continued. 
"Angels  are  organizations  natural  in  accordance  with  God's  laws. 
They  appear  superhuman,  because  of  our  ignorance  concerning 


"A  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE  IS  A  vSTUDY  OF  GOD."  225 

the  higher  natural  forces.  They  exist  in  exact  accordance  with 
the  laws  that  govern  the  universe ;  but  as  yet  the  attraction 
between  clay  and  clay-bound  spirit  is  so  great  as  to  prevent  the 
enthralled  soul  of  man  from  communicating  with  them.  The 
faith  of  the  religionist  is  an  example  of  the  unquenchable  feeling 
that  creates  a  belief  as  well  as  a  hope  that  there  is  a  self-existence 
separate  from  earthy  substances.  The  scoffing  scientific  agnostic, 
w^orking  for  other  objects,  will  yet  astonish  himself  by  elaborating 
a  method  that  will  practically  demonstrate  these  facts,  and  then 
empirical  religion,  as  exemplified  by  the  unquestioning  faithful 
believer,  and  systematic  science,  as  typified  in  the  experimental 
materialist,  will  meet  on  common  ground." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

I    CEASE    TO    BREATHE,    AND   YP:T   LIVE. 

During  this  conversation  we  had  been  rapidly  walking,  or  I 
should  better  say  advancing,  for  we  no  longer  walked  as  men 
do,  but  skipped  down  into  the  earth,  down,  ever  downward. 
There  were  long  periods  of  silence,  in  which  I  was  engaged  in 
meditating  over  the  problems  that  successively  demanded  solu- 
tion, and  even  had  I  desired  to  do  so  I  could  have  kept  no  record 
of  time ;  days,  or  even  weeks,  may  have  been  consumed  in  this 
journey.  Neither  have  I  any  method  of  judging  of  the  rapidity 
of  our  motion.  I  was  sensible  of  a  marked  decrease  in  the 
amount  of  muscular  energy  required  to  carry  us  onward,  and  I 
realized  that  my  body  was  quite  exempt  from  weariness.  Motion 
became  restful  instead  of  exhausting,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  ratio  of  the  loss  of  weight,  as  shown  by  our  free  movements, 
in  proportion  to  the  distance  we  traversed,  was  greater  than 
formerly.  The  slightest  exhibition  of  propelling  force  cast  us 
rapidly  forward.  Instead  of  the  laborious,  short  step  of  upper 
earth,  a  single  leap  would  carry  us  many  yards.  A  slight 
spring,  and  with  our  bodies  in  space,  we  would  skip  several 
rods,  alighting  gently,  to  move  again  as  easily.  I  marveled,  for, 
although  I  had  been  led  to  anticipate  something  unusual,  the 
practical  evidence  was  wonderfully  impressive,  and  I  again  ques- 
tioned my  guide. 

"  We  are  now  nearing  what  physicists  would  call  the  center 
of  gravity,"  he  replied,  "  and  our  weight  is  rapidly  diminishing. 
This  is  in  exact  accordance  with  the  laws  that  govern  the  force 
called  gravitation,  which,  at  the  earth's  surface,  is  apparently 
miiform,  though  no  instrument  known  to  man  can  demonstrate 
its  exact  variation  within  the  field  man  occupies.  Men  have 
not,  as  yet,  been  in  a  position  to  estimate  this  change,  although  it 
is  known  that  mountains  attract  objects,  and  that  a  change  in 
weight  as  we  descend  into  the  earth  is  perceptible  ;  but  to  evolve 

226 


I  CEASE  TO  BREATHE,  AND  YET  LIVE. 


227 


the  true  law,  observation,  at  a  distance  of  at  least  ten  miles  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  ocean  is  necessary,  and  man,  being  a  creature 
whose    motions   are  _^ 

confined  to  a  thin, 
horizontal  skin  of 
earth,  has  never 
been  one  mile  be- 
neath its  surface, 
and  in  consequence 
his  opportunities  for 
comparison  are  ex- 
tremely limited/' 

"  I  have  been 
taught,"  I  replied, 
*'that  the  force  of 
gravitation  de- 
creases until  the 
center  of  the  earth 
is  reached,  at  which 
point  a  body  is  with- 
out weight;  and  I 
can  scarcely  understand  how  such  positive  statements  from 
scientific  men  can  be  far  from  the  truth." 

"It  is  supposed  by  your  surface  men  that  the  maximum  of 
weight  is  to  be  found  at  one-sixth  the  distance  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  and  therefrom  decreases  until  at  the  center 
it  is  nothing  at  all,"  he  replied,  "This  hypothesis,  though,  a 
stagger  toward  the  right,  is  far  from  the  truth,  but  as  near  as 
could  be  expected,  when  we  consider  the  data  upon  which  men 
base  their  calculations.  Were  it  not  for  the  purpose  of  contro- 
verting erroneous  views,  men  would  have  little  incentive  to 
continue  their  investigations,  and  as  has  been  the  rule  in  science 
heretofore,  the  truth  will,  in  time,  appear  in  this  case.  One 
generation  of  students  disproves  the  accepted  theories  of  that 
which  precedes,  all  working  to  eliminate  error,  all  adding  factors 
of  error,  and  all  together  moving  toward  a  common  goal,  a  grand 
generalization,  that  as  yet  can  not  be  perceived.  And  still  each 
series  of  workers  is  overlooking  phenomena  that,  though  obvi- 
ous, are  yet  unperceived,  but  which  will  make  evident  to  future 


'WE   WOUr^D    SKIP   SEVERAL    RODS,    ALIGHTING 
GENTLY." 


228  ETIDORHPA. 

scientists  the  mistakes  of  the  present.  As  an  example  of  the 
manner  in  which  facts  are  thns  overlooked,  in  yonr  jonrney  you 
have  been  impressed  with  certain  surprising  external  conditions, 
or  surroundings,  and  yet  are  oblivious  to  conditions  more  remark- 
able in  your  own  body.  So  it  is  with  scientists.  They  overlook 
prominent  facts  that  stare  them  boldly  in  the  face,  facts  that, 
are  so  conspicuous  as  to  be  invisible  by  reason  of  their  very 
nearness." 

"This  statement  I  can  not  disprove,  and  therefore  must 
admit  under  protest.  Where  there  is  so  much  that  appears 
mysterious  I  may  have  overlooked  some  things,  but  I  can 
scarcely  accept  that,  in  ignorance,  I  have  passed  conditions  in 
my  own  organization  so  marked  as  this  decrease  in  gravity 
which  has  so  strikingly  been  called  to  my  attention." 

"  You  have,  and  to  convince  you  I  need  only  say  that  you 
have  nearly  ceased  to  breathe,  and  are  unconscious  of  the  fact." 

I  stopped  short,  in  momentary  alarm,  and  now  that  my 
mind  was  directed  to  the  fact,  I  became  aware  that  I  did  not 
desire  to  breathe,  and  that  my  chest  had  ceased  to  heave  with 
the  alternate  inhalation  and  exhalation  of  former  times.  I 
closed  my  lips  firmly,  and  for  a  long  period  there  was  no  desire 
for  breath,  then  a  slight  involuntary  inhalation  followed,  and  an 
exhalation,  scarcely  noticeable,  succeeded  by  a  great  interval  of 
inaction.  I  impulsively  turned  my  face  toward  the  passage  we 
had  trod;  a  feeling  of  alarm  possessed  me,  an  uncontrollable^ 
inexpressible  desire  to  flee  from  the  mysterious  earth-being 
beside  me,  to  return  to  men,  and  be  an  earth-surface  man  again^ 
and  I  started  backward  through  the  chamber  we  had  passed. 

The  guide  siezed  me  by  the  hand,  "Hold,  hold,"  he  cried; 
"where  would  you  go,  fickle  mortal?" 

"To  the  surface,"  I  shouted;  "  to  daylight  again.  Unhand 
me,  unearthly  creature,  abnormal  being,  man  or  devil ;  ha\-e  you 
not  inveigled  me  far  enough  into  occult  realms  that  should  be 
forever  sealed  from  mankind?  Have  you  not  taken  from  me  all 
that  men  love  or  cherish,  and  undone  every  tie  of  kith  or  kin? 
Have  you  not  led  me  into  paths  that  the  imagination  of  the 
novelist  dare  not  conjure,  and  into  experiences  that  pen  in 
human  hand  would  not  venture  to  describe  as  possible,  until 
I  now  stand  with  mv  feet   on  the  boundar^•  line   that  borders 


I  CEASE  TO  BREATHE,  AND  YET  LIVE. 


229 


vacancy,  and  utter  loss  of  weight ;  with  a  body  nearly  lost  as  a 
material  substance,  verging  into  nothing,  and  lastly  with  breath 
practically  extinguished,  I  say,  and  repeat,  is  it  not  time  that  I 
should  hesitate  and  pause  in  my  reckless  career?" 

"  It  is  not  time,"  he  answered. 

"When  will  that  hour  come?"  I  asked  in  desperation,  and  I 
trembled  as  he  replied : 

"When  the  three  Great  Lights  are  closed." 


**AN   UNCONTROI,LABI.E,   INEXPRESSIBLE   DESIRE   TO   FLEE." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

*'A    certain    point    within    a    sphere." — MEN   ARE    AS    PARA- 
SITES  ON   THE    ROOF   OF    EARTH. 

I  realized  again,  as  I  had  so  many  times  before,  that  it  was 
useless  for  me  to  rebel.  "  The  self-imposed  mystery  of  a  sacri- 
ficed life  lies  before  me,"  I  murmured,  "  and  there  is  no  chance 
to  retrace  my  footsteps.  The  '  Beyond '  of  the  course  that  I  have 
voluntarily  selected,  and  sworn  to  follow,  is  hidden ;  I  must  nerve 
myself  to  pursue  it  to  the  bitter  end,  and  so  help  me  God,  and 
keep  me  steadfast." 

"Well  said,"  he  replied;  "and  since  you  have  so  wisely 
determined,  I  am  free  to  inform  you  that  these  new  obligations, 
like  those  you  have  heretofore  taken,  contain  nothing  which  can 
conflict  with  your  duty  to  God,  your  country,  your  neighbor,  or 
yourself.  In  considering  the  phenomena  presented  by  the  sus- 
pension of  the  act  of  breathing,  it  should  occur  to  you  that 
where  little  labor  is  to  be  performed,  little  consumption  of 
energy  is  required.  Where  there  is  such  a  trifling  destruction 
of  the  vital  force  (not  mind  force)  as  at  present  is  the  case  with 
us,  it  requires  but  slight  respiration  to  retain  the  normal  condi- 
tion of  the  body.  On  earth's  surface  the  act  of  respiration 
alone  consumes  by  far  the  larger  proportion  of  vital  energy, 
and  the  muscular  exertion  involved  thereby  necessitates  a 
proportionate  amount  of  breathing  in  order  that  breath  itself 
may  continue.  This  act  of  respiration  is  the  result  of  one  of 
the  conditions  of  surface  earth  life,  and  consumes  most  of  the 
vital  force.  If  men  would  think  of  this,  they  would  under- 
stand how  paradoxical  it  is  for  them  to  breathe  in  order  to 
live,  when  the  very  act  of  respiration  wears  away  their  bodies 
and  shortens  their  lives  more  than  all  else  they  have  to  do, 
and  without  adding  to  their  mental  or  physical  constitution 
in  the  least.  Men  are  conversant  with  physical  death  as  a 
constant  result  of  suspended  respiration,  and  with  respiration  as 

230 


"A  CERTAIN  POINT  WITHIN  A  SniHRK."  231 

an  accompaniment  of  life,  which  ever  constant  and  connected 
conditions  lead  them  to  accept  that  the  act  of  breathing  is  a 
necessity  of  mortal  life.  In  reality,  man  occupies  an  unfortunate 
position  among  other  undeveloped  creatures  of  external  earth ; 
he  is  an  animal,  and  is  constitutionally  framed  like  the  other 
animals  about  him.  He  is  exposed  to  the  warring  elements,  to 
the  vicious  attacks  of  savage  beasts  and  insidious  parasites, 
and  to  the  inroads  of  disease.  He  is  a  prey  to  the  elementary 
vicissitudes  of  the  undesirable  exposure  in  which  he  exists  upon 
the  outer  surface  of  our  globe,  where  all  is  war,  even  among  the 
forces  of  nature  about  him.  These  conditions  render  his  lot  an 
unhappy  one  indeed,  and  in  ignorance  he  overlooks  the  torments 
of  the  weary,  rasping,  endless  slavery  of  respiration  in  the 
personal  struggle  he  has  to  undergo  in  order  to  retain  a  brief 
existence  as  an  organized  being.  Have  you  never  thought  of  the 
connected  tribulations  that  the  wear  and  tear  of  respiration  alone 
inflict  upon  the  human  family?  The  heaving  of  the  chest,  the 
circulation  of  the  blood,  the  throbbing  of  the  heart,  continue 
from  mortal  birth  until  death.  The  heart  of  man  forces  about 
two  and  one-half  ounces  of  blood  with  each  pulsation.  At 
seventy  beats  per  minute  this  amounts  to  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
six  pounds  per  hour,  or  nearly  eight  tons  per  day.  The  lungs 
respire  over  one  thousand  times  an  hour,  and  move  over  three 
thousand  gallons  of  air  a  day.  Multiply  these  amounts  by  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five,  and  then  by  seventy,  and  you  have 
partly  computed  the  enormous  life-work  of  the  lungs  and  heart 
of  an  adult.  Over  two  hundred  thousand  tons  of  blood,  and 
seventy-five  million  gallons  of  air  have  been  moved  by  the  vital 
force.  The  energy  thus  consumed  is  dissipated.  No  return  is 
made  for  the  expenditure  of  this  life  force.  During  the  natural 
life  of  man,  more  energy  is  consequently  wasted  in  material  trans- 
formation resulting  from  the  motion  of  heart  and  lungs,  than 
would  be  necessary  to  sustain  the  purely  vital  forces  alone  for  a 
thousand  years.  Besides,  the  act  of  respiration  which  man  is 
compelled  to  perform  in  his  exposed  position,  necessitates  the 
consumption  of  large  amounts  of  food,  in  order  to  preserve  the 
animal  heat,  and  replace  the  waste  of  a  material  body  that  in 
turn  is  worn  out  by  these  very  movements.  Add  this  waste  of 
energy  to  the  foregoing,  and  then  you  will  surely  perceive  that 


ETIDORHPA. 


the  possible  life  of  man  is  also  curtailed  to  another  and  greater 
degree  in  the  support  of  the  digestive  part  of  his  organism. 
His  spirit  is  a  slave  to  his  body ;  his  lungs  and  heart,  on  whicli 
he  imagines  life  depends,  are  unceasing  antagonists  of  life.  That 
his  act  of  breathing  is  now  a  necessity  upon  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  where  the  force  of  gravity  presses  so  heavily,  and  where 
the  elements  have  men  at  their  command,  and  show  him  no 
mercy,  I  will  not  deny;  but  it  is  exasperating  to  contemplate 
such  a  waste  of  energy,  and  corresponding  loss  of  human  life." 
"You  must  admit,  however,  that  it  is  necessary?"  I  queried. 
"  No ;  only  to  an  extent.  The  natural  life  of  man  should, 
and  yet  will  be,  doubled,  trebled,  multiplied  a  dozen,  yes  a 
thousand  fold." 

I  stepped  in  front  of  him ;  we  stood  facing  each  other. 
"  Tell  me,"  I  cried,  "  how  men  can  so  improve  their  condi- 
tion as  to  lengthen  their  days  to  the  limit  you  name,  and  let  me 
return  to  surface  earth  a  carrier  of  the  glad  tidings." 

He  shook  his  head. 
I  dropped  on  my  knees 
before  him. 

"  I  implore  you  in  behalf 
of  that  unfortunate  hu- 
manity, of  which  I  am  a 
member,  give  me  this  boon. 
I  promise  to  return  to  you 
and  do  your  bidding. 
Whatever  may  be  my  sub- 
sequent fate,  I  promise  to 
acquiesce  .  therein  will- 
ingly." 

He  raised  me  to  my  feet. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,"  he 

said,    "  and    in   the  proper 

time  you  may  return  to  the 

surface  of  this  rind  of  earth,  a  carrier  of  great  and   good  news 

to  men." 

"Shall  I  teach  them  of  what  you  have  shown  me?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  in  part  you  will  be  a  forerunner,  but  before  you  obtain 

the  information  that  is  necessary  to  the  comfort  of  mankind  you 


\ 


I  DROPPEn  ON  MY  KNEES  BEFORE  HIM. 


"A  CERTAIN  POINT  WITHIN  A  SPHERE."  233 

will  have  to  visit  surface  earth  again,  and  return  again,  perhaps 
repeatedly.  You  must  prove  yourself  as  men  are  seldom  proven. 
The  journey  you  have  commenced  is  far  from  its  conclusion, 
and  you  may  not  be  equal  to  its  subsequent  trials;,  prepare 
yourself,  therefore,  for  a  series  of  events  that  may  unnerve  you. 
If  you  had  full  confidence  and  faith  in  your  guide,  you  would 
have  less  cause  to  fear  the  result,  but  your  suspicious  human 
nature  can  not  overcome  the  shrinking  sensation  that  is  natural 
to  those  who  have  been  educated  as  you  have  been  amid  the 
changing  vicissitudes  of  the  earth's  surface,  and  you  can  not 
but  be  incredulous  by  reason  of  that  education." 

Then  I  stopped  as  I  observed  before  me  a  peculiar  fungus — 
peculiar  because  unlike  all  others  I  had  seen.  The  convex  part 
of  its  bowl  was  below,  and  the  great  head,  as  an  inverted  toad- 
stool, stood  upright  on  a  short,  stem-like  pedestal.  The  gills 
within  were  of  a  deep  green  color,  and  curved  out  from  the 
center  in  the  form  of  a  spiral.  This  form,  however,  was  not  the 
distinguishing  feature,  for  I  had  before  observed  specimens  that 
were  spiral  in  structure.  Tli'e  extraordinary  peculiarity  was 
that  the  gills  were  covered  with  fruit.  This  fruit  was  likewise 
green  in  color,  each  spore,  or  berry,  being  from  two  to  three 
inches  in  diameter,  and  honeycombed  on  the  surface,  corrugated 
most  beautifully.  I  stopped,  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  great 
bowl,  and  plucked  a  specimen  of  the  fruit.  It  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  a  hard,  transparent  shell,  and  to  be  nearly  full  of  a 
clear,  green  liquid.  I  handled  and  examined  it  in  curiosity,  at 
which  my  guide  seemed  not  to  be  surprised.  Regarding  me 
attentively,  he  said : 

"What  is  it  that  impels  a  mortal  towards  this  fruit?" 

"It  is  curious,"  I  said;  "nothing  more." 

"As  for  that,"  said  he,  "it  is  not  curious  at  all;  the  seed  of 
the  lobelia  of  upper  earth  is  more  curious,  because,  while  it  is  as 
exquisitely  corrugated,  it  is  also  microscopically  small.  In  the 
second  place  yoii  err  when  you  say  it  is  simply  curious,  '  nothing 
more,'  for  no  mortal  ever  yet  passed  that  bowl  without  doing 
exactly  as  you  have  done.  The  vein  of  curiosity,  were  it  that 
alone  that  impels  you,  could  not  but  have  an  exception." 

Then  he  cracked  the  shell  of  the  fruit  by  striking  it  on  the 
stony  floor,  and  carefully  opened  the  shell,  handing  me  one  of 


234 


ETIDORHPA. 


the  halves  filled  with  a  green  fluid.  As  he  did  so  he  spoke 
the  single  word,  "  Drink,"  and  I  did  as  directed.  He  stood 
upright  before  me,  and  as  I  looked  him  in  the  face  he  seemingly, 
without  a  reason,  struck  off  into  a  dissertation,  apparently  as 
distinct  from  our  line  of  thought  as  a  disconnected  subject  could 
be,  as  follows: 


"handing  me  one;  of  the  hai^ves,  he  spoke  the  single  word,  drink. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

DRUNKENNESS. — THE    DRINKS   OF   MAN. 

"  Intemperance  lias  been  the  vice  of  every  people,  and  is  prev- 
alent in  all  climes,  notwithstanding  that  intoxicants,  properlv 
employed,  may  serve  humanity's  highest  aims.  Beginning  early 
in  the  history  of  a  people,  the  disease  increases  with  the  growth 
of  a  nation,  until,  at  last,  unless  the  knife  is  used,  civilization 
perishes.  A  lowly  people  becomes  more  depraved  as  the  use  of 
liquor  increases ;  a  cultivated  people  passes  backward  into  bar- 
barism with  the  depravities  that  come  from  dissipation.  Here 
nations  meet,  and  individuals  sink  to  a  common  level.  No  drink- 
ing man  is  strong  enough  to  say,  '  I  can  not  become  dissipated;' 
no  nation  is  rich  and  cultivated  enough  to  view  the  debauch  of 
its  people  without  alarm. 

"  The  disgusting  habit  of  the  drunken  African  finds  its 
counterpart  in  the  lascivious  wine-bibber  of  aristocratic  society. 
To  picture  the  indecencies  of  society,  that  may  be  charged  to 
debauchery,  when  the  Grecian  and  Roman  empires  were  at  the 
height  of  greatness,  would  obscure  the  orgies  of  the  barbarous 
African,  and  make  preferable  the  brutality  of  the  drunken  Amer- 
ican Indian.  Intemperance  brings  men  to  the  lowest  level,  and 
holds  its  power  over  all  lands  and  all  nations." 

"  Did  the  aborigines  know  how  to  make  intoxicants,  and  were 
barbarians  intemperate  before  contact  with  civilized  nations?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  have  understood  that  drunkenness  is  a  vice  inherent 
only  in  civilized  people;  are  not  you  mistaken?" 

"No.  Every  clime,  unless  it  be  the  far  North  where  men 
are  scarcely  more  than  animals,  furnishes  intoxicants,  and  all 
people  use  them,     I  will  tell  you  part  of  this  record  of  nations. 

"The  Nubians  make  a  barley  beer  which  they  call  bonze, 
and  also  a  wine,  from  the  palm  tree.  The  savages  of  Africa 
draw  the  clear,  sweet  juice  of  the  palm  oil  tree  into  a  gourd,  in 

235 


236  ETIDORIIPA. 

the  morning,  and  by  night  it  becomes  a  violent  intoxicant.  The 
natives  of  the  Malayan  Archipelago  ferment  and  drink  the  sap 
of  the  flower  stems  of  the  cocoanut.  The  Tartar  tribes  make 
an  intoxicating  drink  from  mare's  milk,  called  koomis.  In 
South  America  the  natives  drink  a  vile  compound,  called  cana, 
distilled  from  sugar  cane ;  and  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  the 
shrub  kava  supplies  the  intoxicant  kava-kava,  drunk  by  all  the 
inhabitants,  from  king  to  slave,  and  mother  to  child.  In  the 
heart  of  Africa,  cannibal  tribes  make  legyce  of  a  cereal,  and 
indulge  in  wild  orgies  over  their  barbarous  cup.  In  North 
America  the  Indians,  before  Columbus  discovered  America, 
made  an  intoxicating  drink  of  the  sap  of  the  maple  tree.  The 
national  drink  of  the  Mexicans  is  pulque,  a  beastly  intoxicant, 
prepared  from  the  Agave  Americana.  Mead  is  an  alcoholic 
drink,  made  of  honey,  and  used  in  many  countries.  In  China 
wine  was  indulged  in  from  the  earliest  day,  and  in  former  times, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  influence  of  their  philosophers,  especially 
Confucius,  who  foresaw  the  end,  the  Chinese  nation  would  have 
perished  from  drunkenness.  Opium,  that  fearful  enslaver  of 
millions  of  human  beings,  is  in  every  sense  a  narcotic  intoxi- 
cant, and  stands  conspicuous  as  an  agent,  capable  of  being 
either  a  friend,  a  companion,  or  a  master,  as  man  permits. 
History  fails  to  indicate  the  date  of  its  introduction  to  humanity. 
In  South  America  the  leaf  of  the  cocoa  plant  is  a  stimulant 
scarcely  less  to  be  dreaded  than  opium.  The  juice  of  a  species 
of  asclepias  produces  the  intoxicant  soma,  used  once  by  the 
Brahmins,  not  only  as  a  drink,  but  also  in  sacrificial  and  religious 
ceremonies.  Many  different  flavored  liquors  made  of  palm, 
cocoanuts,  sugar,  pepper,  honey,  spices,  etc.,  were  used  by 
native  Hindoos,  and  as  intoxicants  have  been  employed  from 
the  earliest  days  in  India.  The  Vedic  people  were  fearfully 
dissipated,  and  page  after  page  of  that  wonderful  sacred  book, 
the  Rigs-Veda,  is  devoted  to  the  habit  of  drunkenness.  The 
worst  classes  of  drunkards  of  India  used  Indian  hemp  to  make 
bhang,  or  combined  the  deadly  narcotic  stramonium  with 
arrack,  a  native  beer,  to  produce  a  poisonous  intoxicant.  In 
that  early  day  the  inhabitants  of  India  and  China  were  fearfully 
depraved  drunkards,  and  but  for  the  reforms  instituted  by  their 
wise  men,   must  have  perished  as  a  people.      Parahaoma,  or 


DRUNKENNESvS.  237 

*  homa,'  is  an  intoxicant  made  from  a  lost  plant  that  is  described 
as  having  yellow  blossoms,  nsed  by  the  ancient  dissolute  Persians 
from  the  day  of  Zoroaster.  Cannabis  sativa  produces  an  intox- 
icant that  in  Turkey  is  known  as  hadschy,  in  Arabia  and  India 
as  hashish,  and  to  the  Hottentots  as  dacha,  and  serves  as  a 
drunkard's  food  in  other  lands.  The  fruit  of  the  juniper 
produces  gin,  and  the  fermented  juice  of  the  grape,  or  malt 
liquors,  in  all  civilized  countries  are  the  favorite  intoxicants, 
their  origin  being  lost  in  antiquity.  Other  substances,  such  as 
palm,  apples,  dates,  and  pomegranates  have  also  been  univer- 
sally employed  as  drink  producers. 

"Go.  where  you  will,  man's  tendency  seems  to  be  towards 
the  bowl  that  inebriates,  and  yet  it  is  not  the  use  but  the  abuse 
of  intoxicants  that  man  has  to  dread.  Could  he  be  temperate, 
exhilarants  would  befriend." 

"  But  here,"  I  replied,  "  in  this  underground  land,  where  food  is 
free,  and  existence  possible  without  an  effort,  this  shameful  vice 
has  no  existence.  Here  there  is  no  incentive  to  intemperance, 
and  even  though  man  were  present  with  his  inherent  passion  for 
drink,  he  could  not  find  means  to  gratify  his  appetite." 

"Ah,"  my  guide  replied,  "that  is  an  error.  Why  should  this 
part  of  the  earth  prove  an  exception  to  the  general  rule? 
Nature  always  supplies  the  means,  and  man's  instinct  teaches 
him  how  to  prepare  an  intoxicant.  So  long  as  man  is  human 
his  passions  will  rule.  If  you  should  prove  unequal  to  the  task 
you  have  undertaken,  if  you  shrink  from  your  journey,  and  turn 
back,  the  chances  are  you  will  fail  to  reach  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  You  will  surely  stop  in  the  chamber  which  we  now 
approach,  and  which  I  have  now  prepared  you  to  enter,  and  will 
then  become  one  of  a  band  of  earth  drunkards ;  having  all  the , 
lower  passions  of  a  mortal  you  will  yet  be  lost  to  the  virtues  of 
man.  In  this  chamber  those  who  falter  and  turn  back,  stop  and 
remain  for  all  time,  sinking  until  they  become  lower  in  the 
human  scale  than  any  drunkard  on  earth.  Without  any 
restraining  influence,  without  a  care,  without  necessity  of  food 
or  incentive  to  exertion,  in  this  habitation  where  heat  and  cold 
are  unknown,  and  no  motive  for  self-preservation  exists,  they 
turn  their  thoughts  toward  the  ruling  passion  of  mankind  and — 
Listen  !     Do  vou  not  hear  them?     Listen  !" 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

TIIK    drunkard's    voice. 

Then  I  noticed  a  medley  of  sounds  seemingly  rising  out  of 
the  depths  beyond  us.  The  noise  was  not  such  as  to  lead  me  to 
infer  that  persons  were  speaking  coherently,  but  rather  resembled 
a  jargon  such  as  might  come  from  a  multitude  of  persons  talking 
indiscriminately  and  aimlessly.  It  was  a  constant  volley,  now 
rising  and  now  falling  in  intensity,  as  though  many  persons 
regardless  of  one  another  were  chanting  different  tunes  in  that 
peculiar  sing-song  tone  often  characteristic  of  the  drunkard.  As 
we  advanced,  the  noise  became  louder  and  more  of  a  medley, 
until  at  last  we  were  surrounded  by  confusion.  Then  a  single 
voice  rose  up  strong  and  full,  and  at  once,  from  about  us,  close  to 
us,  yes,  against  our  very  persons,  cries  and  shrieks  unearthly 
smote  my  ears.  I  could  distinguish  words  of  various  tongues, 
English,  Irish,  German,  and  many  unfamiliar  and  disjointed 
cries,  imprecations,  and  maledictions.  The  cavern  about  seemed 
nov/  to  be  resonant  with  voices, — shrieks,  yells,  and  maniacal 
cries  commingled, — and  yet  no  form  appeared.  As  we  rushed 
onward,  for  now  my  guide  grasped  ni)-  arm  tightly  and  drew  me 
rapidly  down  the  cavern  floor,  the  voices  subsided,  and  at  length 
sounded  as  if  behind  us.  Now  however  it  seemed  as  though 
innumerable  arrows,  each  possessed  of  a  whistle  or  tone  of  its  own, 
were  in  wave-like  gusts  shrieking  by  us.  Coming  from  in  front, 
they  burst  in  the  rear.  Stopping  to  listen,  I  found  that  a 
connection  could  be  traced  between  the  screech  of  the  arrow-like 
shriek,  and  a  drunkard's  distant  voice.  It  seemed  as  though 
a  rocket  made  of  an  escaping  voice  would  scream  past,  and 
bursting  in  the  cavern  behind,  liberate  a  human  cry.  Now  and 
then  all  but  a  few  would  subside,  to  burst  out  with  increased 
violence,  as  if  a  flight  of  rockets  each  with  a  cry  of  its  own 
would  rush  past,  to  be  followed  after  their  explosion  b>-  a  medley 
of  maniacal  cries,  songs,  shrieks,  and  groans,  commingled.     It 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  VOICE.  239 

was  as  though  a  shell  containing  a  voice  that  escaped  slowly  as 
by  pressure  from  an  orifice,  were  fired  past  my  ears,  to  explode 
and  liberate  the  voice  within  my  hearing.  The  dreadful  utter- 
ance was  not  an  echo,  was  not  hallucination,  it  was  real. 

I  stopped  and  looked  at  my  guide  in  amazement.  He 
explained :  "  Did  you  not  sometime  back  experience  that  your 
own  voice  was  thrown  from  your  body?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"These  crazed  persons  or  rather  experiences  depraved,  are 
shouting  in  the  cavern  beyond,"  he  said.  "  They  are  in  front ; 
their  voices  pass  us  to  burst  into  expression  in  the  rear." 

Then,  even  as  he  spoke,  from  a  fungus  stalk  near  us,  a  hideous 
creature  unfolded  itself,  and  shambled  to  my  side.  It  had  the 
frame  of  a  man,  and  yet  it  moved  like  a  serpent,  writhing  towards 
me.  I  stepped  back  in  horror,  but  the  tall,  ungainly  creature 
reached  out  an  arm  and  grasped  me  tightly.  Leaning  over  he 
placed  his  hideous  mouth  close  to  my  ear,  and  moaned:  "  Back, 
back,  go  thou  back." 

I  made  no  reply,  being  horror-stricken. 

"Back,  I  say,  back  to  earth,  or" — 

He  hesitated,  and  still  possessed  of  fear,  and  unable  to  re2Dly, 
I  was  silent. 

"Then  go  on,"  he  said,  "on  to  your  destiny,  unhappy  man," 
and  slinking  back  to  the  fungus  whence  he  arose,  he  disappeared 
from  sight. 

"  Come,"  said  my  guide,  "  let  us  pass  the  Drunkard's  Den. 
This  was  but  a  straggler;  nerve  yourself,  for  his  companions 
will  soon  surround  us." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THK    drunkards'    DEN. 

As  we  progressed  the  voices  in  our  rear  became  more  faint, 
and  yet  the  whistling  volleys  of  screeching  voice  bombs  passed 
us  as  before.  I  shuddered  in  anticipation  of  the  sight  that  was 
surely  to  meet  our  gaze,  and  could  not  but  tremble  for  fear. 
Then  I  stopped  and  recoiled,  for  at  my  very  feet  I  beheld  a 
huge,  living  human  head.  It  rested  on  the  solid  rock,  and  had 
I  not  stopped  suddenly  when  I  did,  I  would  have  kicked  it  at 
the  next  leap.  The  eyes  of  the  monster  were  fixed  in  supplica- 
tion on  my  face  ;  the  great  brow  indicated  intelligence,  the  finely- 
cut  mouth  denoted  refinement,  the  well-modeled  head  denoted 
brain,  but  the  whole  constituted  a  monster.  The  mouth  opened, 
and  a  whizzing,  arrow  voice  swept  past,  and  was  lost  in  the 
distance. 

"  What  is  this?"  I  gasped. 

"  The  fate  of  a  drunkard,"  my  guide  replied.  *'  This  was 
once  an  intelligent  man,  but  now  he  has  lost  his  body,  and 
enslaved  his  soul,  in  the  den  of  drink  beyond  us,  and  has  been 
brought  here  by  his  comrades,  who  thus  rid  themselves  of  his 
presence.  Here  he  must  rest  eternally.  He  can  not  move,  he 
has  but  one  desire,  drink,  and  that  craving,  deeper  than  life,  can 
not  be  satiated." 

"  But  he  desires  to  speak ;  speak  lower,  man,  or  head  of 
man,  if  you  wish  me  to  know  your  wants,"  I  said,  and  leaned 
toward  him. 

Then  the  monster  whispered,  and  I  caught  the  words : 

"  Back,  back,  go  thou  back !" 

I  made  no  reply. 

"  Back  I  say,  back  to  earth  or" — 

Still  I  remained  silent. 

*'  Then  go  on,"  he  said ;  "  on  to  your  destiny,  unhappy  man." 

"This  is  horrible,"  I  muttered. 

210 


THE  DRUNKARDS'  DKN.  241 

"Come,"  said  the  guide,  "let  ns  proceed." 

And  we  moved  onward. 

Now  I  perceived  many  such  heads  about  us,  all  resting 
upright  on  the  stony  floor.  Some  were  silent,  others  were 
shouting,  others  still  were  whispering  and  endeavoring  to  attract 
my  attention.  As  we  hurried  on  I  saw  more  and  more  of  these 
abnormal  creatures.  Some  were  in  rows,  resting  against  each 
other,  leaving  barely  room  for  us  to  pass  between,  but  at  last, 
much  to  my  relief,  we  left  them  behind  us. 

But  I  found  that  I  had  no  cause  for  congratulation,  when  I 
felt  myself  clutched  by  a  powerful  hand — a  hand  as  large  as  that 
of  a  man  fifty  feet  in  height.  I  looked  about  expecting  to  see  a 
gigantic  being,  but  instead  beheld  a  shrunken  pigmy.  The 
whole  man  seemed  but  a  single  hand — a  Brobdingnag  hand 
affixed  to  the  body  of  a  Liliputian. 

"  Do  not  struggle,"  said  the  guide ;  "  listen  to  what  he  wishes 
to  impart." 

I  leaned  over,  placing  my  ear  close  to  the  mouth  of  the 
monstrosity. 

"  Back,  back,  go  thou  back,"  it  whispered. 

"  What  have  I  to  fear?"  I  asked. 

"  Back,  I  say,  back  to  earth,  or" — 

"Or  what?"  I  said. 

"Then  go  on;  on  to  your  destiny,  unhappy  man,"  he 
answered,  and  the  hand  loosed  its  grasp. 

My  guide  drew  me  onward. 

Then,  from  about  us,  huge  hands  arose;  on  all  sides  they 
waved  in  the  air;  some  were  closed  and  were  shaken  as  clenched 
fists,  others  moved  aimlessly  with  spread  fingers,  others  still 
pointed  to  the  passage  we  had  traversed,  and  in  a  confusion  of 
whispers  I  heard  from  the  pigmy  figures  a  babble  of  cries, 
"  Back,  back,  go  thou  back."  Again  I  hesitated,  the  strain 
upon  my  nerves  was  becoming  iinbearable ;  I  glanced  backward 
and  saw  a  swarm  of  misshaped  diminutive  forms,  each  holding 
up  a  monstrous  arm  and  hand.  The  passage  behind  us  was 
closed  against  retreat.  Every  form  possessed  but  one  hand,  the 
other  and  the  entire  body  seemingly  had  been  drawn  into  this 
abnormal  member.  While  I  thus  meditated,  momentarily,  as 
by  a  single  thought  each  hand  closed,  excepting  the  index  finger. 


242 


ETIDORHPA. 


and  in  unison  each  finger  pointed  towards  the  open  way  in 
front,  and  like  shafts  from  a  thousand  bows  I  felt  the  voices 
whiz  past  me,  and  then  from  the  rear  came  the  reverberation  as 
a  complex  echo,  "Then  go  on;  on  to  your  destiny,  unhappy 
man." 

Instinctively  I  sprang  forward,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 


I':.\CH    FIXGKR    POINTF.n    TOWARDS    TIIK    OPEN    WAV    IX    KROXT. 


restraining  hand  of  my  guide  would  have  rushed  wildly  into 
passages  that  might  have  ended  my  misery,  for  God  only  knows 
what  those  unseen  corridors  contained.  I  was  aware  of  that 
which  lay  behind,  and  was  only  intent  on  escaping  from  the 
horrid  figures  already  passed. 

"Hold,"  whispered  the  guide;  "as  you  value  your  life,  stop." 
And  then  exerting  a  power  that  I  could  not  withstand,  he 
held  me  a  struggling  prisoner. 


THE  DRUNKARDS'  DEN.  243 

"Listen,"  he  said,  "have  you  not  observed  that  these 
creatures  do  not  seek  to  harm  you?  Have  not  all  of  them 
spoken  kindly,  have  any  offered  violence?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "but  they  are  horrible." 

"That  they  realize;  but  fearing  that  you  will  prove  to  be  as 
weak  as  they  have  been,  and  will  become  as  they  are  now,  they 
warn  you  back.  However,  I  say  to  you,  if  you  have  courage 
sufficient,  you  need  have  no  fear.  Come,  rely  on  me,  and  do  not 
be  surprised  at  anything  that  appears." 

Again  we  went  forward.  I  realized  now  my  utter  helpless- 
ness. I  became  indifferent  again ;  I  could  neither  retrace  my 
footsteps  alone,  nor  guide  them  forward  in  the  path  I  was  to 
pursue.  I  submissively  relied  on  my  guide,  and  as  stoical  as  he 
appeared  to  be,  I  moved  onward  to  new  scenes. 

We  came  to  a  great  chamber  which,  as  we  halted  on  its 
edge,  seemed  to  be  a  prodigious  amphitheater.  In  its  center 
a  rostrum-like  stone  of  a  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  flat  and  cir- 
cular on  the  top,  reared  itself  about  twelve  feet  above  the  floor, 
and  to  the  base  of  this  rostrum  the  floor  of  the  room  sloped 
evenly.  The  amphitheater  was  fully  a  thousand  feet  in  diameter, 
of  great  height,  and  the  floor  was  literally  alive  with  grotesque 
beings.  Imagination  could  not  depict  an  abnormal  human  form 
that  did  not  exhibit  itself  to  my  startled  gaze.  One  peculiarity 
now  presented  itself  to  my  mind ;  each  abnormal  part  seemed 
to  be  created  at  the  expense  of  the  remainder  of  the  body. 
Thus,  to  my  right  I  beheld  a  single  leg,  fully  twelve  feet  in 
height,  surmounted  by  a  puny  human  form,  which  on  this  leg, 
hopped  ludicrously  away.  I  saw  close  behind  this  huge  limb  a 
great  ear  attached  to  a  small  head  and  body;  then  a  nose  so  large 
that  the  figure  to  which  it  was  attached  was  forced  to  hold  the 
face  upward,  in  order  to  prevent  the  misshaped  organ  from 
rubbing  on  the  stony  floor.  Here  a  gigantic  forehead  rested  on 
a  shrunken  face  and  body,  and  there  a  pair  of  enormous  feet 
were  walking,  seemingly  attached  to  the  body  of  a  child,  and 
yet  the  face  was  that  of  a  man.  If  an  artist  were  to  attempt 
to  create  as  many  revolting  figures  as  possible,  each  with  some 
member  out  of  proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  body,  he  could  not 
add  one  form  to  those  upon  this  floor.  And  yet,  I  again  observed 
that  each  exaggerated  organ  seemed  to  have  drawn  itself  into 


244  irriDORHPA. 

existence  by  absorbing  the  remainder  of  the  body.  We  stood  on 
the  edge  of  this  great  room,  and  I  pondered  the  scene  before  my 
eyes.     At  length  my  gnide  broke  the  silence: 

"Yon  must  cross  this  floor;  no  other  passage  is  known. 
Mark  well  my  words,  heed  my  advice." 

"This  is  the  Drnnkards'  Den.  These  men  are  lost  to  them- 
selves and  to  the  world.  Every  member  of  this  assembly  once 
passed  onward  as  you  are  now  doing,  in  charge  of  a  guide. 
They  failed  to  reach  the  goal  to  which  you  aspire,  and  retreating, 
reached  this  chamber,  to  become  victims  to  the  drink  habit. 
Some  of  these  creatures  have  been  here  for  ages,  others  only  for 
a  short  period." 

"Why  are  they  so  distorted?"  I  asked. 

"Because  matter  is  now  only  partly  subservient  to  will,"  he 
replied.  "The  intellect  and  mind  of  a  drunkard  on  surface 
earth  becomes  abnormal  by  the  influence  of  an  intoxicant,  but 
his  real  form  is  unseen,  although  evidently  misshapen  and  partly 
subject  to  the  perception  of  a  few  only  of  his  fellow  men. 
Could  vou  see  the  inner  form  of  an  earth  surface  drunkard,  you 
would  perceive  as  great  a  mental  monstrosity  as  is  any  physical 
monster  now  before  you,  and  of  the  two  the  physically  abnormal 
creature  is  really  the  least  objectionable.  Could  you  see  the  mind 
configurations  of  an  assembly  of  surface  earth  topers,  you  would 
perceive  a  class  of  beings  as  much  distorted  mentally  as  are 
these  physically.  A  drunkard  is  a  monstrosity.  On  surface 
earth  the  mind  becomes  abnormal;  here  the  body  suffers." 

"  Whv  is  it,"  I  asked,  "  that  parts  of  these  creatures  shrink 
away  as  some  special  organ  increases?" 

"  Because  the  abnormal  member  can  grow  only  by  abstracting 
its  substance  from  the  other  portions  of  the  body.  An  increas- 
ing arm  enlarges  itself  by  drawing  its  strength  from  the  other 
parts,  hence  the  body  withers  as  the  hand  enlarges,  and  in  turn 
the  hand  shrinks  when  the  leg  increases  in  size.  The  total 
weight  of  the  individual  remains  about  the  same. 

"  Men  on  earth  judge  of  men  not  by  what  they  are,  but  by 
what  they  seem  to  be.  The  physical  form  is  apparent  to  the 
sense  of  sight,  the  real  man  is  unseen.  However,  as  the  boot 
that  encloses  a  foot  can  not  altogether  hide  the  form  of  the  foot 
within,  so  the  body  that  encloses   the  life  entity,  can  not  but 


THE  DRUNKARDS'  DEN.  245 

exhibit  here  and  there  the  character  of  the  doiuinating  spirit 
within.  Thus  a  man's  features  may  grow  to  indicate  the  nature 
of  the  enclosed  spirit,  for  the  controlUng  character  of  that  spirit 
will  gradually  impress  itself  on  the  material  part  of  man.  Even 
on  surface  earth,  where  the  matter  side  of  man  dominates,  a 
vicious  spirit  will  produce  a  villainous  countenance,  a  mediocre 
mind  a  vapid  face,  and  an  amorous  soul  will  even  protrude  the 
anterior  part  of  the  skull. 

"Carry  the  same  law  to  this  location,  and  it  will  be  seen  that 
as  mind,  or  spirit,  is  here  the  master,  and  matter  is  the  slave,  the 
same  rule  should,  under  natural  law,  tend  to  produce  such 
abnormal  figures  as  you  perceive.  Hence  the  part  of  a  man's 
spirit  that  is  endowed  most  highly  sways  the  corresponding  part 
of  his  physical  body  at  the  expense  of  the  remainder.  Gradu- 
ally the  form  is  altered  under  the  relaxing  influence  of  this 
fearful  intra-earth  intoxicant,  and  eventually  but  one  organ 
remains  to  tell  of  the  symmetrical  man  who  formerly  existed. 
Then,  when  he  is  no  longer  capable  of  self-motion,  the  comrades 
carry  the  drunkard's  fate,  which  is  here  the  abnormal  being 
3'ou  have  seen,  into  the  selected  corridor,  and  deposit  it  among 
others  of  its  kind,  as  in  turn  the  bearers  are  destined  sometime 
to  be  carried  by  others.  We  reached  this  cavern  through  a 
corridor  in  which  heads  and  arms  were  abnormal,  but  in  others 
may  be  found  great  feet,  great  legs,  or  other  portions  of  self- 
abused  man. 

"  I  should  tell  you,  furthermore,  that  on  surface  earth  a 
drunkard  is  not  less  abnormal  than  these  creatures ;  but  men 
can  not  see  the  form  of  the  drunkard's  spirit.  Could  they 
perceive  the  image  of  the  real  man  life  that  corresponds  to  the 
material  part,  it  would  appear  not  less  distorted  and  hideous. 
The  soul  of  a  mortal  protrudes  from  the  visible  body  as  down 
expands  from  a  thistle  seed,  but  it  is  invisible.  Drink  drives 
the  spirit  of  an  earth-surface  drunkard  to  unnatural  forms,  not 
less  grotesque  than  these  physical  distortions.  Could  you  see 
the  real  drunkard  on  surface  earth  he  would  be  largely  outside 
the  body  shell,  and  hideous  in  the  extreme.  As  a  rule,  the  spirit 
of  an  earth-surface  drunkard  dominates  the  nose  and  face,  and 
if  mortal  man  could  be  suddenly  gifted  with  the  sense  of  mind- 
sight,   they   would  find    themselves  surrounded   by  persons    as 


246  ETIDORHPA. 

misshapen  as  any  delirious  imagination  can  conjure.  Luckily 
for  humanity  this  scene  is  as  yet  withheld  from  man,  for  life 
would  otherwise  be  a  fearful  experience,  because  man  has  not 
the  power  to  resist  the  temptation  to  abuse  drink.'' 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  "how  long  will  those  beings  rest  in  these 
caverns?" 

"They  have  been  here  for  ages,"  replied  the  guide  ;  "  they  are 
doomed  to  remain  for  ages  yet." 

"You  have  infimated  that  if  my  courage  fails  I  will  return 
to  this  cavern  and  become  as  they  are.  Now  that  you  have 
warned  me  of  my  doom,  do  you  imagine  that  anything,  even 
sudden  death,  can  swerve  me  from  my  journey?  Death  is  surely 
preferable  to  such  an  existence  as  this." 

"  Do  not  be  so  confident.  Every  individual  before  you  has 
had  the  same  opportunity,  and  has  been  warned  as  you  have 
been.  They  could  not  undergo  the  test  to  which  they  were 
subjected,  and  you  may  fail.  Besides,  on  surface  earth  are  not 
men  constantly  confronted  with  the  doom  of  the  drunkard,  and 
do  they  not,  in  the  face  of  this  reality,  turn  back  and  seek  his 
caverns?  The  journey  of  life  is  not  so  fearful  that  they  should 
become  drunkards  to  shrink  from  its  responsibilities.  You  have 
reached  this  point  in  safety.  You  have  passed  the  sentinels 
without,  and  will  soon  be  accosted  by  the  band  before  us. 
Listen  well  now  to  my  advice.  A  drunkard  always  seeks  to 
gain  companions,  to  draw  others  down  to  his  own  level,  and  you 
will  be  tried  as  never  have  "you  been  before.  Taste  not  their 
liquor  by  whatever  form  or  creature  presented.  They  have  no 
power  to  harm  him  who  has  courage  to  resist.  If  they  entreat 
you,  refuse ;  if  they  threaten,  refuse ;  if  they  offer  inducements, 
refuse  to  drink.  Let  your  answer  be  No,  and  have  no  fear.  If 
your  strength  fail  you,  mark  well  my  " — 

Before  he  could  complete  his  sentence  I  felt  a  pressure,  as  of 
a  great  wind,  and  suddenly  found  myself  seized  in  an  embrace 
irresistible,  and  then,  helpless  as  a  feather,  was  swept  out  into 
the  cavern  of  the  drimkards. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

AMONG    THK    DRUNKARDS. 

I  remember  once  to  have  stood  on  tlie  edge  of  Niagara's 
great  whirlpool,  but  not  more  fearful  did  its  seething  waters  then 
seem  than  did  the  semi-human  whirl  into  which  I  had  now  been 
plunged.  Whether  my  guide  had  been  aware  of  the  coming 
move  that  separated  us  I  never  knew,  but,  as  his  words  were 
interrupted,  I  infer  that  he  was  not  altogether  ready  to  part 
from  my  company.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  disappeared  from 
sight,  and,  as  by  a  concerted  move,  the  cries  of  the  drunkards 
subsided  instantly.  I  found  myself  borne  high  in  the  air, 
perched  on  a  huge  hand  that  was  carried  by  its  semi-human 
comrades.  It  seemed  as  though  the  contents  of  that  vast  hall 
had  been  suddenly  throvv^n  beneath  me,  for,  as  I  looked  about,  I 
saw  all  around  a  sea  of  human  fragments,  living,  moving  parts  of 
men.  Round  and  round  that  hall  we  circled  as  an  eddy  whirls 
in  a  rock-bound  basin,  and  not  less  silently  than  does  the  water 
of  an  eddy.  Then  I  perceived  that  the  disjointed  mass  of 
humanity  moved  as  a  spiral,  in  unison,  throbbing  like  a  vital- 
ized stream,  bearing  me  submissively  on  its  surface.  Gradually 
the  distance  between  myself  and  the  center  stone  lessened,  and 
then  I  found  that,  as  if  carried  in  the  groove  of  a  gigantic 
living  spiral,  I  was  being  swept  towards  the  stone  platform  in 
the  center  of  the  room.  There  was  method  in  the  movements 
of  the  drunkards,  although  I  could  not  analyze  the  intricacies  of 
their  complex  reel. 

Finally  I  was  borne  to  the  center  stone,  and  by  a  sudden  toss 
of  the  hand,  in  the  palm  of  which  I  was  seated,  I  was  thrown  upon 
the  raised  platform.  Then  in  unison  the  troop  swung  around 
the  stone,  and  I  found  myself  gazing  on  a  mass  of  vitalized 
fragments  of  humanity.  Quickly  a  figure  sprung  upon  the 
platform,  and  in  him  I  discerned  a  seemingly  perfect  man.  He 
came  to  my  side  and  grasped  mv  hand  as  if  he  were  a  friend. 

247 


248  ETIDORHPA. 

"Do  not  fear,"  he  said;  "obey  our  request,  and  you  will 
not  be  harmed." 

"What  do  you  desire?"  I  asked. 

He  pointed  to  the  center  of  the  stone,  and  I  saw  thereon 
many  gigantic,  inverted  fungus  bowls.  The  gills  of  some  had 
been  crushed  to  a  pulp,  and  had  saturated  themselves  with 
liquid  which,  perhaps  by  a  species  of  fermentation,  had  under- 
gone a  structural  change ;  others  were  as  yet  intact ;  others  still 
contained  men  intently  cutting  the  gills  into  fragments  and 
breaking  the  fruit  preparatory  to  further  manipulation. 

"You  are  to  drink  with  us,"  he  replied. 

"No,"  I  said;  "I  will  not  drink." 

"  Then  you  must  die  ;  to  refuse  to  drink  with  us  is  to  invite 
death." 

"  So  mote  it  be  ;  I  will  not  drink." 

We  stood  facing  each  other,  apparently  both  meditating  on 
the  situation. 

I  remember  to  have  been  surprised,  not  that  the  man 
before  me  had  been  able  to  spring  from  the  floor  to  the  table  rock 
on  which  I  stood,  but  that  so  fair  a  personage  could  have  been  a 
companion  of  the  monstrosities  about  me.  He  was  a  perfect 
type  of  manhood,  and  was  exquisitely  clothed  in  a  loose,  flowing 
robe  that  revealed  and  heightened  the  beauty  of  his  symmetrical 
form.  His  face  was  fair,  yet  softly  tinted  with  rich,  fresh  color ; 
his  hair  and  beard  were  neatly  trimmed ;  his  manner  was 
polished,  and  his  countenance  frank  and  attractive.  The  con- 
trast between  the  preternatural  shapes  from  among  whom  he 
sprung  and  himself  was  as  between  a  demon  and  an  angel.  I 
marveled  that  I  had  not  perceived  him  before,  for  such  a  one 
should  have  been  conspicuous  because  so  fair;  but  I  reflected 
that  it  was  quite  natural  that  among  the  thousands  of  grotesque 
persons  about  me,  one  attractive  form  should  have  escaped 
notice.  Presently  he  spoke  again,  seemingly  having  repented 
of  his  display  of  temper. 

"I  am  a  friend,"  he  said;  "a  deliverer.  I  will  serve  you  as 
I  have  others  before  you.  Lean  on  me,  listen  to  my  story,  accept 
my  proffered  friendship." 

Then  he  continued:  "  When  you  have  rested,  I  will  guide  you 
in  safety  back  to  upper  earth,  and  restore  you  to  your  friends." 


AMONG  THE  DRUNKARDS.  249 

I  could  not  resist  his  pleasing  promise.  I  suddenly  and 
unaccountably  believed  in  his  sincerity.  He  impressed  me  with 
confidence  in  his  truthfulness,  yes,  against  my  better  judgment, 
convinced  me  that  he  must  be  a  friend,  a  savior.  Grasping  him 
by  the  hand  I  thanked  him  for  his  interest  in  a  disconsolate 
wanderer,  and  assured  him  of  my  confidence. 

"I  am  in  your  hands,"  I  said;  "I  will  obey  you  implicitly. 
I  thank  you,  my  deliverer;  lead  me  back  to  surface  earth  and 
receive  the  gratitude  of  a  despairing  mortal." 

"This  I  will  surely  do,"  he  said;  "rest  your  case  in  my 
hands,  do  not  concern  yourself  in  the  least  about  your  future. 
Before  acquiescing  in  your  desire,  however,  I  will  explain  part  of 
the  experiences  through  which  you  have  recently  passed.  You 
have  been  in  the  control  of  an  evil  spirit,  and  have  been  deceived. 
The  grotesque  figures,  the  abnormal  beings  about  you,  exist 
only  in  your  disordered  imagination.  They  are  not  real.  These 
persons  are  happy  and  free  from  care  or  pain.  They  live  in  bliss 
inexpressible.  They  have  a  life  within  a  life,  and  the  outward 
expression  that  you  have  perceived  is  as  the  uncouth  hide  and 
figure  that  incloses  the  calm,  peaceful  eye  of  a  toad.  Look  at 
their  eyes,  not  at  their  seemingly  distorted  forms." 

I  turned  to  the  throng  and  beheld  a  multitude  of  upturned 
faces  mildly  beaming  upon  me.  As  I  glanced  from  eye  to  eye 
of  each  countenance,  the  repulsive  figure  disappeared  from  my 
view,  and  a  sweet  expression  of  innocence  was  all  that  was  dis- 
closed to  me.  I  realized  that  I  had  judged  by  the  outer  garment. 
I  had  wronged  these  fellow -beings.  A  sense  of  remorse  came 
over  me,  a  desire  to  atone  for  my  short-sightedness. 

"What  can  I  offer  as  a  retribution?"  I  asked.  "I  have 
injured  these  people." 

"  Listen,"  was  the  reply.  "  These  serene  intelligences  are 
happy.  They  are  as  a  band  of  brothers.  They  seek  to  do  you 
a  kindness,  to  save  you  from  disaster.  One  hour  of  experience 
such  as  they  enjoy  is  worth  a  hundred  years  of  the  pleasures 
known  to  you.  This  delicious  favor,  an  hour  of  bliss,  they  freely 
offer  you,  and  after  you  have  partaken  of  their  exquisite  joy,  I 
will  conduct  you  back  to  earth's  surface  whenever  you  desire  to 
leave  us."     He  emphasized  the  word,  desire. 

"I  am  ready,"  I  replied;  "give  me  this  promised  delight." 


250  ETIDORHPA. 

The  genial  allurer  turned  to  the  table  rock  behind  us,  and 
continued : 

"  In  these  fungus  bowls  we  foment  the  extract  of  life.  The 
precious  cordial  is  as  a  union  of  the  quintessential  spirits  of  joy, 
peace,  tranquillity,  happiness,  and  delight.  Could  man  abstract 
from  ecstasy  the  thing  that  underlies  the  sense  that  gives  that 
word  a  meaning,  his  product  would  not  approach  the  power  of 
the  potent  liquids  in  these  vessels." 

"Of  what  are  they  composed?"  I  asked. 

"Of  derivatives  of  the  rarest  species  of  the  fungus  family," 
he  answered.  "They  are  made  by  formulae  that  are  the  result  of 
thousands  of  years  of  experimentation.  Come,  let  us  not  delay 
longer  the  hour  of  bliss." 

Taking  me  by  the  hand,  my  graceful  comrade  led  me  to 
the  nearest  bowl.  Then  on  closer  view  I  perceived  that  its  con- 
tents were  of  a  deep  green  color,  and  in  active  commotion,  and 
although  no  vapor  was  apparent,  a  delightful  sensation  impressed 
my  faculties.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  inhaled  at  all, — the  feeling 
was  one  of  penetration,  of  subtile,  magic  absorption.  My 
companion  took  a  tiny  shell  which  he  dipped  into  the  strange 
cauldron.  Holding  the  tiny  cup  before  me,  he  spoke  the  one 
word,  "  Drink." 

Ready  to  acquiesce,  forgetful  of  the  warning  I  had  received, 
I  grasped  the  cup,  and  raised  it  to  my  lips,  and  as  I  did  so 
chanced  to  glance  at  my  tempter's  face,  and  saw  not  the  supposed 
friend  I  had  formerly  observed,  but,  as  through  a  mask  fair  in  out- 
line, the  countenance  of  an  exulting  demon,  regarding  me  wnth  a 
sardonic  grin.    In  an  instant  he  had  changed  from  man  to  devil. 

I  dashed  the  cup  upon  the  rock.  "No;  I  will  not  drink," 
I  shouted. 

Instanth-  the  cavern  rung  with  cries  of  rage.  A  thousand 
voices  joined  as  by  accord,  and  simultaneously  the  throng  of 
fragments  of  men  began  to  revolve  again.  The  mysterious 
spiral  seemed  to  unwind,  but  I  could  not  catch  the  method  of  its 
movement.  The  motion  was  like  that  of  an  uncoiling  serpent 
bisected  lengthwise,  the  two  halves  of  the  body  seeming  to  slide 
against  each  other.  Gradually  that  part  of  the  cavern  near  the 
stone  on  which  I  stood  became  clear  of  its  occupants,  and  at  last 
I    perceived    that    the   throng  had    receded    to  the   outer  edge. 


AMONG  THE  DRUNKARDS.  251 

Then  the  encircling  side  walls  of  the  amphitheater  became 
visible,  and  as  water  sinks  into  sand,  the  medley  of  fragments  of 
humanity  disappeared  from  view. 

I  turned  to  my  companion  ;  he,  too,  had  vanished.  I  glanced 
towards  the  liquor  cauldrons ;  the  stone  was  bare.  I  alone  occu- 
pied the  gigantic  hall.  No  trace  remained  to  tell  of  the  throng 
that  a  short  time  previously  had  surrounded  and  mocked  me. 

Desolate,  distracted,  I  threw  myself  upon  the  stone,  and 
cursed  my  miserable  self.  "Come  back,"  I  cried,  "come  back. 
I  will  drink,  drink,  drink." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

FURTHER   TEMPTATION. — ETIDORIIPA. 

Then,  as  iii}-  voice  reverbrated  from  the  outer  recesses,  I , 
caught  a  sound  as  of  music  in  the  distance.  I  raised  my  head 
and  listened — yes,  surely  there  was  music.  The  melody  became 
clearly  distinct,  and  soon  my  senses  were  aware  that  both  vocal 
and  instrumental  music  were  combined.  The  airs  which  came 
floating  were  sweet,  simple,  and  beautiful.  The  voices  and 
accompanying  strains  approached,  but  I  could  distinguish  no 
words.  By  and  by,  from  the  corridors  of  the  cavern,  troops  of 
bright  female  forms  floated  into  view.  They  were  clad  in  robes 
ranging  from  pure  white  to  every  richest  hue,  contrasting 
strangely,  and  in  the  distance  their  rainbow  brilliancy  made  a 
gorgeous  spectacle.  Some  were  fantastically  attired  in  short 
gowns,  such  as  I  imagine  were  worn  by  the  dancing  girls  of 
sacred  history,  others  had  kirtles  of  a  single  bright  color,  others 
of  many  shades  intermingled,  while  others  still  were  dressed  in 
gauze-like  fabrics  of  pure  white. 

As  they  filed  into  the  cavern,  and  approached  me,  they 
formed  into  platoons,  or  into  companies,  and  then,  as  dissolving 
views  come  and  go,  they  presented  first  one  and  then  another 
figure.  Sometimes  they  would  stretch  in  great  circling  lines 
around  the  hall,  again  they  would  form  into  squares,  and  again 
into  geometrical  figures  of  all  shades  and  forms,  but  I  observed 
that  with  every  change  they  drew  nearer  to  the  stone  on  which 
I  rested. 

They  were  now  so  near  that  their  features  could  be  distin- 
guished, and  never  before  had  I  seen  such  loveliness  in  human 
mold.  Every  face  was  as  perfect  as  a  master's  picture  of  the 
Madonna,  and  yet  no  two  seemed  to  possess  the  same  type  of 
beauty.  Some  were  of  dark  complexion  with  glossy,  raven 
hair,  others  were  fair  with  hair  ranging  from  light  brown  to 
golden.     The  style  of  head  dress,  as  a  rule,  was  of  the  simplest 

252 


FURTHER  TEMPTATION.  253 

description.  A  tinted  ribbon,  or  twisted  cord,  over  the  head, 
bound  their  hair  with  becoming  grace,  and  their  silken  locks  were 
either  plaited  into  braids,  curled  into  ringlets,  or  hung  loosely, 
flowing  in  wavelets  about  their  shoulders.  Some  held  curious 
musical  instruments,  others  beautiful  wands,  and  altogether 
they  produced  a  scenic  effect  of  rare  beauty  that  the  most 
extravagant  dream  of  fairyland  could  not  surpass.  Thus  it  was 
that  I  became  again  the  center  of  a  throng,  not  of  repulsive 
monsters,  but  of  marvelously  lovely  beings.  They  were  as 
different  from  those  preceding  as  darkness  is  from  daylight. 

Could  any  man  from  the  data  of  my  past  experiences  have 
predicted  such  a  scene  ?  Never  before  had  the  semblance  of  a 
woman  appeared,  never  before  had  an  intimation  been  given 
that  the  gentle  sex  existed  in  these  silent  chambers.  Now,  from 
the  grotesque  figures  and  horrible  cries  of  the  former  occupants 
of  this  same  cavern,  the  scene  had  changed  to  a  conception  of 
the  beautiful  and  artistic,  such  as  a  poetic  spirit  might  evolve  in 
an  extravagant  dream  of  higher  fairy  land.  I  glanced  above  ; 
the  great  hall  was  clothed  in  brilliant  colors,  the  bare  rocks  had 
disappeared,  the  dome  of  that  vast  arch  reaching  to  an  immeas- 
urable height,  was  decorated  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 
Flags  and  streamers  fluttered  in  breezes  that  also  moved  the 
garments  of  the  angelic  throng  about  me,  but  which  I  could  not 
sense ;  profiles  of  enchanting  faces  pervaded  the  glimmering 
space  beyond ;  I  alone  was  but  an  onlooker,  not  a  participant  of 
the  joys  about  me. 

The  movements  of  the  seraph-like  figures  continued,  innum- 
erable forms  and  figures  followed  forms  and  figures  innumerable, 
and  music  indescribable  blended  with  the  poetry  of  motion.  I 
was  rapt,  the  past  disappeared,  my  former  mind  was  blotted  from 
existence,  the  world  vanished,  and  I  became  a  thrill  of  jo>-,  a 
sensation  of  absolute  delight. 

The  band  of  spirits  or  fairy  forms  reached  the  rock  at  my 
feet,  but  I  did  not  know  how  long  a  time  they  consumed  in  doing 
this;  it  may  have  been  a  second,  and  it  may  have  been  an 
eternity.  Neither  did  I  care.  A  single  moment  of  existence  such 
as  I  experienced,  seemed  worth  an  age  of  any  other  pleasure. 

Circling  about  me,  these  ethereal  creatures  paused  from  their 
motions,  and,  as  the  music  ceased,  I  stood  above  them,  and  yet 


254  ETIDORHPA.  j 

1 

in  their  midst,  and  gazed  out  into  a  distance  illimitable,  but  i 

less  beautiful  in  the  expanse  than  was  the  adjacent  part.     1 

cavern  had  altogether  disappeared,  and  in  the  depths  about 

as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  seemingly  into  the  broad  expai 

of  heaven,  I  saw  the  exquisite  forms  that  I  ha\-e  so  imperfec 

described. 

Then  a  single  band  from  the  throng  lightly  sprung  upon  i 
stony  terrace  where  I  stood,  and  sung  and  danced  before  i 
Every  motion  was  perfect  as  imagination  could  depict,  e\( 
sound  was  concentrated  extract  of  melody.  This  band  retired 
be  replaceci  by  another,  which  in  turn  gave  way  to  another,  ;i 
still  another,  until,  as  in  space  we  have  no  standard,  time  \-; 
ished,  and  numbers  ceased  to  be  numbers. 

No  two  of  the  band  of  dancers  were  clothed  alike,  no  t 
songs  were  similar,  though  all  were  inexpressibly  enchantii 
The  first  group  seemed  perfect,  and  yet  the  second  was  betl 
and  each  succeeding  band  sung  sweeter  songs,  were  m^ 
beautiful,  and  richer  in  dress  than  those  preceding.  I  beca 
enveloped  in  the  sesthetic  atmosphere,  my  spirit  seemed  to, 
loosened  from  the  body,  it  was  apparently  upon  the  point 
escaping  from  its  mortal  frame ;  suddenly  the  music  ceas 
the  figures  about  became  passive,  and  every  form  standi 
upright  and  graceful,  gazed  upon  my  face,  and  as  I  lool 
at  the  radiant  creatures,  each  successive  face,  in  turn,  seen 
to  grow  more  beautiful,  each  form  more  exquisite  than  thi 
about. 

Then,  in  the  distance,  I  observed  the  phalanx  divide,  formi 
into  two  divisions,  separated  by  a  broad  aisle,  stretching  fr 
my  feet  to  the  limit  of  space  without,  and  down  this  aisl< 
observed  a  single  figure  advancing  toward  me. 

As  she  approached,  the  phalanx  closed  in  behind  her,  a 
when  at  last  she  reached  the  stone  on  which  I  stood,  she  stepp 
or  was  wafted  to  my  side,  and  the  phalanx  behind  moved  togetl 
and  was  complete  again. 

"  My  name  is  Rtidorhpa.  In  me  you  behold  the  spirit  tl 
elevates  man,  and  subdues  the  most  violent  of  passions.  In  1: 
tory,  so  far  back  in  the  dim  ages  as  to  be  known  now  as  legends 
mythology,  have  I  ruled  and  blessed  the  world.  Unclasp  i 
power  over  man  and   beast,  and    while   heaven  dissolves,   1 


\ 


ETIDORhPA, 


FURTHER  TEMPTATION.  257 

charms  of  Paradise  will  perish.  I  know  no  master.  The  universe 
bows  to  my  authority.  Stars  and  suns  enamored  pulsate  and 
throb  in  space  and  kiss  each  other  in  waves  of  light ;  atoms  cold 
embrace  and  cling  together ;  structures  inanimate  affiliate  with 
and  attract  inanimate  structures;  bodies  dead  to  other  noble 
passions  are  not  dead  to  love.  The  savage  beast,  under  my 
enchantment,  creeps  to  her  lair,  and  gently  purrs  over  her  off- 
spring ;  even  man  becomes  less  violent,  and  sheathes  his  weapon 
and  smothers  his  hatred  as  I  soothe  his  passions  beside  the  loved 
ones  in  the  privacy  of  his  home. 

"I  have  been  known  under  many  titles,  and  have  comforted 
many  peoples.  Strike  my  name  from  Time's  record,  and  the 
lovely  daughters  of  Zeus  and  Dione  would  disappear ;  and  with 
them  would  vanish  the  grace  and  beauty  of  woman ;  the  sweet 
conception  of  the  Froth  Child  of  the  Cyprus  Sea  would  be  lost ; 
Venus,  the  Goddess  of  Love,  would  have  no  place  in  song,  and 
Love  herself,  the  holiest  conception  of  the  poet,  man's  superlative 
conception  of  Heaven's  most  precious  charms,  would  be  buried 
with  the  myrtle  and  the  rose.  j\Iy  name  is  Htidorhpa ;  interpret 
it  rightly,  and  you  have  what  has  been  to  humanity  the  essence 
of  love,  the  mother  of  all  that  ennobles.  He  who  loves  a  wife 
worships  me ;  she,  who  in  turn  makes  a  home  happy,  is  typical 
of  me.  I  am  Etidorhpa,  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  earth. 
Behold  in  me  the  antithesis  of  envy,  the  opposite  of  malice,  the 
enemy  of  sorrow,  the  mistress  of  life,  the  queen  of  immortal 
bliss. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  and  her  voice,  soft  and  sweet, 
carried  with  it  a  pleasurable  sense  of  truthfulness  indescribable, 
*'  do  you  know  that  man's  idea  of  heaven,  places  me,  Etidorhpa, 
on  the  highest  throne?  With  the  charm  of  maiden  pure,  I 
combine  the  devotion  of  wife  and  the  holiness  of  mother.  Take 
from  the  life  of  man  the  treasures  I  embody,  and  he  w'ill  be 
homeless,  childless,  loveless.  The  thought  of  Heaven  will  in 
such  a  case  be  as  the  dismal  conception  of  a  dreary  platitude.  A 
hfe  in  such  a  Heaven,  a  Heaven  devoid  of  love  (and  this  the 
Scriptures  teach),  is  one  of  endless  torment. 

"  Love,  by  whatever  name  the  conception  is  designated,  rules 
the  \vorld.  Divest  the  cold  man  of  science,  of  the  bond  that 
binds  him  to  his  life-thought,  and  his  work  is  ended.     Strike 


258  ETIDORHPA. 

from  the  master  in  music  the  chord  that  links  his  soul  to  the  j 
voice  he  breathes,  and  his  songs  will  be  hushed.  Deaden  the  I 
sense  of  love  which  the  artist  Ixars  his  art,  and  as  the  spirit  that  I 
underlies  his  thought-scenes  vanishes,  his  touch  becomes  chilled,  I 
and  his  brush  inexpressive.  The  soldier  thinks  of  his  home  and 
country,  and  without  a  murmur  sheds  his  life  blood.  j 

"And  yet  there  are  debasing  phases  of  love,  for  as  love  of; 
country  builds  a  nation,  so  love  of  pillage  may  destroy  it.  Love  ' 
of  the  holy  and  the  beaiitiful  stand  in  human  life  opposed  to  ' 
love  of  the  debasing  and  vicious,  and  I,  Etidorhpa,  am  typical  of  i 
the  highest  love  of  man.  As  the  same  force  binds  the  molecules  , 
of  the  rose  and  the  violet  as  well  as  those  of  noxious  drugs,  so  > 
the  same  soul  conception  may  serve  the  love  of  good  or  the  love 
of  evil.  Love  may  guide  a  tyrant  or  actuate  a  saint,  may  make  1 
man  torture  his  fellow,  or  strive  to  ease  his  pain.  ! 

"  Thus,  man's  propensity  to  serve  his  holy  or  his  evil  passion 
may  each  be  called  a  degree  in  love,  and  in  the  serving  of  that 
passion  the  love  of  one  heart  may  express  itself  as  the  antithesis 
of  love  in  another.  As  bitter  is  to  some  men's  taste  more  pleasant 
than  sweet,  and  sour  is  yet  more  grateful  to  others,  so  one  man 
may  love  the  beautifvil,  another  delight  in  the  grotesque,  and  a 
third  may  love  to  see  his  neighbor  suffer.  Amid  these,  the  phase 
of  love  that  ennobles,  brings  the  greatest  degree  of  pleasure  and 
comfort  to  mankind,  but  the  love  that  degrades  is  love  neverthe- 
less, by  whatever  name  the  expression  of  the  passion  may  be 
called.  Love  rules  the  world,  and  typical  of  man's  intensest, 
holiest  love,  I,  Etidorhpa,  stand  the  Soul  of  Love  Supreme.'* 
She  hesitated. 

"Goon." 

"I  have  already  said,  and  in  saying  this  have  told  the  truth, 
I  come  from  beyond  the  empty  shell  of  a  materialistic  gold  and 
silver  conception  of  Heaven.  Go  with  me,  and  in  my  home  you 
will  find  man's  soul  devotion,  regardless  of  material  surroundings. 
I  have  said,  and  truly,  the  corridors  of  the  Heaven  mansion, 
enriched  by  precious  stones  and  metals  fine,  but  destitute  of 
my  smiles  and  graces,  are  deserted.  The  golden  calf  is  no  longer 
worshiped,  cobwebs  cling  in  festoons  motionless,  and  the  dust 
of  selfish  thoughts  perverted,  dry  and  black  as  the  soot  from 
Satan's   fires   settling   therein,    as   the    dust    of    an   antiquated 


FURTHER  TEMPTATION.  259 

sarcophagus,  rest  iindistiirbed.  Place  on  one  side  the  Heaven 
of  which  gold-bound  misers  sing,  and  on  the  other  Etidorhpa 
and  the  treasures  that  come  with  me  to  man  and  woman,  (for 
without  me  neither  wife,  child,  nor  father  could  exist,)  and  from 
any  other  heaven  mankind  will  turn  away.  The  noblest  gift  of 
Heaven  to  humanity  is  the  highest  sense  of  love,  and  I,  Etidorhpa, 
am  the  soul  of  love." 

She  ceased  speaking,  and  as  I  looked  at  the  form  beside  me 
I  forgot  myself  in  the  rapture  of  that  gaze. 

Crush  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  into  a  single  hue  possessed 
of  the  attributes  of  all  the  others,  and  multiply  that  entity  to 
infinity,  and  you  have  less  richness  than  rested  in  any  of  the 
complex  colors  shown  in  the  trimming  of  her  raiment.  Lighten 
the  softness  of  eiderdown-  a  thousand  times,  and  yet  maintain 
its  sense  of  substance,  and  you  have  not  conceived  of  the  soft- 
ness of  the  gauze  that  decked  her  simple,  flowing  garments. 
Gather  the  shadows  cast  by  a  troop  of  radiant  angels,  then 
sprinkle  the  resultant  shade  with  star  dust,  and  color  therewith 
a  garment  brighter  than  satin,  softer  than  silk,  and  more  ethereal 
than  light  itself,  and  you  have  less  beauty  than  reposed  in  the 
modest  dress  that  enveloped  her  figure.  Abstract  the  perfume 
from  the  sweetest  oriental  grasses,  and  combine  with  it  the 
essential  spirit  of  the  wild  rose,  then  add  thereto  the  soul  of 
ambergris,  and  the  quintessential  extracts  of  the  finest  aromatics 
of  the  East,  and  you  have  not  approached  the  exquisite 
fragrance  that  penetrated  my  very  being  at  her  approach.  She 
stood  before  me,  slender,  lithe,  symmetrical,  radiant.  Her  hair 
was  more  beautiful  than  pen  can  depict ;  it  was  colorless  because 
it  can  not  be  described  by  colors  known  to  mortals.  Her  face 
paled  the  beauty  of  all  who  had  preceded  her.  She  could  not  be  a 
fairy,  for  no  conception  of  a  fairy  can  approach  such  loveliness ; 
she  was  not  a  spirit,  for  surely  material  substance  was  a  part  of 
her  form  ;  she  was  not  an  angel,  for  no  abnormal,  irrational 
wing  protruded  from  her  shoulder  to  blemish  her  seraphic  figure. 

"No,"  I  said  musingly;  "she  is  a  creature  of  other  climes; 
the  Scriptures  tell  of  no  such  being ;  she  is  neither  human  nor 
angelic,  but" — 

"  But  what?"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  know  "  I  answered. 

'  i8 


260  ETIDORHPA. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you,"  she  replied.  "Yes;  I  will  tell  you  of 
myself  and  of  my  companions.  I  will  show  you  our  home, 
carrying  you  through  the  shadows  of  heaven  to  exhibit  that  fair 
land,  for  heaven  without  Etidorhpa  casts  a  shadow  in  compari- 
son therewith.  See,"  she  said,  as  with  her  dainty  fingers  she 
removed  from  her  garment  a  fragment  of  transparent  film  that 
I  had  not  previously  observed;  "see,  this  is  a  cobweb  that  clung 
to  my  skirt,  as,  on  my  way  to  meet  you,  I  passed  through  the 
dismal  corridors  of  the  materialists'  loveless  heaven." 

She  dropped  it  on  the  floor,  and  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  but 
vainly — my  fingers  passed  through  it  as  through  a  mist. 

"You  must  be  an  angel,"  I  stammered. 

She  smiled. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "do  not  consume  your  time  with  thoughts 
of  materialistic  heaven ;  come  with  me  to  that  brighter  land 
beyond,  and  in  those  indescribable  scenes  we,  you  and  I,  will 
wander  together  forever." 

She  held  out  her  hand ;  I  hesitatingly  touched  it,  and  then 
raised  it  to  my  lips.     She  made  no  resistance. 

I  dropped  upon  my  knees.  "Are  you  to  be  mine?"  I  cried. 
"  Mine  forever?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "  if  you  will  it,  for  he  who  loves  will  be 
loved  in  turn." 

" I  will  do  it,"  I  said ;  "  I  give  myself  to  you,  be  you  what  nou 
may,  be  your  home  where  it  may,  I  give  up  the  earth  behind  me, 
and  the  hope  of  heaven  before  me ;  the  here  and  the  hereafter  I 
will  sacrifice.    Let  us  hasten,"  I  said,  for  she  made  no  movement. 

She  shook  her  head.  "You  must  yet  be  tempted  as  never 
before,  and  you  must  resist  the  tempter.  You  can  not  pass  into 
the  land  of  Etidorhpa  until  you  have  suffered  as  only  the  damned 
can  suffer,  until  you  have  withstood  the  pangs  of  thirst,  and  have 
experienced  heat  and  cold  indescribable.  Remember  the  warn- 
ing of  your  former  guide,  mark  well  the  words  of  Etidorhpa: 
you  must  not  yield.  'Twas  to  serve  you  that  I  came  before  you 
now,  't  was  to  preserve  you  from  the  Drunkard's  Cavern  that  I 
have  given  you  this  vision  of  the  land  beyond  the  End  of  Earth 
where,  if  you  will  serve  yourself,  we  will  meet  again. 

She  held  aloft  two  tiny  cups ;  I  sprung  to  my  feet  and 
grasped  one  of  them,  and  as  I  glanced  at  the  throng  in  front  of 


FURTHER  TEMPTATION.  261 

1 

ine,  every  radiant  figure  held  aloft  in  the  left  hand  a  similar  ciip.  ( 
All  were  gazing  in  my  face.     I  looked  at  the  transparent  cup  in 
my  hand ;  it  appeared  to  be  partly  filled  with  a  green  liquid.     I 

looked  at  her  cup  and  saw  that  it  contained  a  similar  fluid.  j 

Forgetting  the  warning  she  had  so  recently  given,  I  raised  j 

the  cup  to  my  lips,  and  just  before  touching  it  glanced  again  at  i 

her  face.     The  fair  creature  stood  with  bowed  head,  her  face  ] 

covered  with  her  hand;    her  very  form  and  attitude  spoke  of  j 

sorrow  and  disappointment,  and  she  trembled  in  distress.     She  j 

held  one  hand  as  though  to  thrust  back  a  form  that  seemed  i 

al^out  to  force  itself  beyond  her  figure,  for  peering  exultingly  i 
from  behind,  leered  the  same  Satanic  face  that  met  my  gaze  on 

the  preceding  occasion,  when  in  the  presence  of  the  troop  of  j 

demons,  I  had  been  tempted  by  the  perfect  man.  \ 

Dashing  the  cup  to  the  floor  I  shouted : 

"No;  I  will  not  drink."  ; 

Btidorhpa  dropped  upon  her  knees  and  clasped  her  hands. 
The  Satanic  figure  disappeared  from  sight.     Realizing  that  we 

had  triumphed  over  the  tempter,  I  also  fell  upon  my  knees  in  I 

thankfulness.  i 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

MISKRY. 

As  all  the  bubbles  in  a  glass  shrink  and  vanish  when  the 
first  collapses,  so  the  troop  of  fairy-like  forms  before  me  disin- 
tegrated, and  were  gone.  The  delicate  being,  whose  hand  I  held, 
fluttered  as  does  a  mist  in  the  first  gust  of  a  sudden  gale,  and 
then  dissolved  into  transparency.  The  gaily  decked  amphitheater 
disappeared,  the  very  earth  cavern  passed  from  existence,  and  I 
found  myself  standing  solitary  and  alone  in  a  boundless  desert. 
I  turned  towards  every  point  of  the  compass  only  to  find  that  no 
visible  object  appeared  to  break  the  monotony.  I  stood  upon  a 
floor  of  pure  white  sand  which  stretched  to  the  horizon  in  gentle 
wave-like  undulations  as  if  the  swell  of  the  ocean  had  been 
caught,  transformed  to  sand,  and  fixed. 

I  bent  down  and  scooped  a  handful  of  the  sand,  and  raised 
it  in  the  palm  of  my  hand,  letting  it  sift  back  again  to  earth ;  it 
was  surely  sand.  I  pinched  my  flesh,  and  pulled  my  hair,  I  tore 
my  garments,  stamped  upon  the  sand,  and  shouted  aloud  to 
demonstrate  that  I  myself  was  still  myself.  It  was  real,  yes, 
real.  I  stood  alone  in  a  desert  of  sand.  Morning  was  dawn- 
ing, and  on  one  side  the  great  sun  rose  slowly  and  majestically. 

"Thank  God  for  the  sun,"  I  cried.  "Thank  God  for  the 
light  and  heat  of  the  sun." 

I  was  again  on  surface  earth  ;  once  more  I  beheld  that  glorious 
orb  for  the  sight  of  which  I  had  so  often  prayed  when  I  believed 
myself  miserable  in  the  dismal  earth  caverns,  and  which  I  had 
been  willing  to  give  my  very  life  once  more  to  behold.  I  fell 
on  my  knees,  and  raised  my  hands  in  thankfulness.  I  blessed 
the  rising  sun,  the  illimitable  sand,  the  air  about  me,  and  the  blue 
heavens  above.  I  blessed  all  that  was  before  me,  and  again  and 
again  returned  thanks  for  my  delivery  from  the  caverns  beneath 
me.  I  did  not  think  to  question  by  what  power  this  miracle  had 
been  accomplished.     I  did  not  care  to  do  so;  had  I  thought  of 

262 


MISERY.  2G3 

the  matter  at  all  I  would  not  have  dared  to  question  for  fear  the 
transition  might  prove  a  delusion. 

I  turned  towards  the  sun,  and  walked  eastward.  As  the  day 
progressed  and  the  sun  rose  into  the  heavens,  I  maintained  my 
journey,  aiming  as  best  I  could  to  keep  the  same  direction. 
The  heat  increased,  and  when  the  sun  reached  the  zenith  it 
seemed  as  though  it  would  melt  the  marrow  in  my  bones.  The 
sand,  as  white  as  snow  and  hot  as  lava,  dazzled  my  eyes,  and  I 
covered  them  with  my  hands.  The  sun  in  the  sky  felt  as  if  it 
were  a  ball  of  white  hot  iron  near  my  head.  It  seemed  small, 
and  yet  appeared  to  shine  as  through  a  tube  directed  only 
towards  myself.  Vainly  did  I  struggle  to  escape  and  get 
beyond  its  boundary,  the  tube  seemed  to  follow  my  every 
motion,  directing  the  blazing  shafts,  and  concentrating  them 
ever  upon  my  defenseless  person.  I  removed  my  outer  gar- 
ments, and  tore  my  shirt  into  fibers  hoping  to  catch  a  waft  of 
breeze,  and  with  one  hand  over  my  eyes,  and  the  other  holding 
my  coat  above  my  head,  endeavored  to  escape  the  mighty  flood 
of  heat,  but  vainly.  The  fiery  rays  streamed  through  the  gar- 
ment as  mercury  flows  through  a  film  of  gauze.  They  penetrated 
my  flesh,  and  vaporized  my  blood.  IVIy  hands,  fingers,  and  arms 
puffed  out  as  a  bladder  of  air  expands  under  the  influence  of 
heat.  My  face  swelled  to  twice,  thrice  its  normal  size,  and  at 
last  my  eyes  were  closed,  for  my  cheeks  and  eyebrows  met.  I 
rubbed  my  shapeless  hand  over  my  sightless  face,  and  foiind  it  as 
round  as  a  ball ;  the  nose  had  become  imbedded  in  the  expanded 
flesh,  and  my  ears  had  disappeared  in  the  same  manner. 

I  could  no  longer  see  the  sun,  but  felt  the  vivid,  piercing  rays 
I  could  not  evade.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  walked  or  rolled 
along;  I  only  know  that  I  struggled  to  escape  those  deadly 
rays.  Then  I  prayed  for  death,  and  in  the  same  breath  begged 
the  powers  that  had  transferred  me  to  surface  earth  to  carry 
me  back  again  to  the  caverns  below.  The  recollection  of  their 
cool,  refreshing  atmosphere  was  as  the  thought  of  heaven  must 
be  to  a  lost  spirit.  I  experienced  the  agony  of  a  damned  soul, 
and  now,  in  contradistinction  to  former  times,  considered  as  my 
idea  of  perfect  happiness  the  dismal  earth  caverns  of  other  days. 
I  thought  of  the  day  I  had  stood  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kentucky 
cave,  and  waded  into  the  water  with  my  guide ;  I  recalled  the 


2G4  IvTIDORIirV. 

refreshing  coolness  of  the  stream  in  the  darkness  of  that  cav- 
ern when  the  last  ray  of  snnshine  disappeared,  and  I  cursed 
myself  for  longing  then  for  snnshine,  and  the  surface  earth. 
Fool  that  man  is,  I  mentally  cried,  not  to  be  contented  with 
that  which  is,  however  he  may  be  situated,  and  wherever  he 
may  be  placed.  This  is  but  a  retribution,  I  am  being  cursed  for 
my  discontented  mind,  this  is  hell,  and  in  comparison  with  this 
hell  all  else  on  or  in  earth  is  happiness.  Then  I  damned  the 
sun,  the  earth,  the  very  God  of  all,  and  in  my  frenzy  cursed 
everything  that  existed.  I  felt  my  puffed  limbs,  and  praved 
that  I  might  become  lean  again.  I  asked  to  shrink  to  a  skel- 
eton, for  seemingly  my  misery  came  with  my  expanded  form ; 
but  I  prayed  and  cursed  in  vain.  So  I  struggled  on  in  agony, 
every  moment  seemingly  covering  a  multitude  of  years;  strug- 
gled along  like  a  lost  soul  plodding  in  an  endless  expanse  of  ever- 
increasing,  ever-concentrating  hell.  At  last,  however,  the  day 
declined,  the  heat  decreased,  and  as  it  did  so  my  distorted  bod\- 
gradually  regained  its  normal  size,  my  eyesight  returned,  and 
finally  I  stood  in  that  wilderness  of  sand  watching  the  great  red 
sun  sink  into  the  earth,  as  in  the  morning  I  had  watched  it  rise. 
But  between  the  sunrise  and  the  sunset  there  had  been  an 
eternity  of  suffering,  and  then,  as  if  released  from  a  spell,  I 
dropped  exhausted  upon  the  sand,  and  seemed  to  sleep.  I 
dreamed  of  the  sun,  and  that  an  angel  stood  before  me,  and 
asked  why  I  was  miserable,  and  in  reply  I  pointed  to  the  sun. 
"See,"  I  said,  "the  author  of  the  misery  of  man." 

Said  the  angel:  "Were  there  no  sun  there  would  be  no  men, 
but  were  there  no  men  there  would  still  be  misery." 

"  Misery  of  what?"  I  asked. 

"  Misery  of  mind,"  replied  the  angel.  "Misery  is  a  thing, 
misery  is  not  a  conception — pain  is  real,  pain  is  not  an  impres- 
sion. Misery  and  pain  would  still  exist  and  prey  upon  mind 
substance  were  there  no  men,  for  mind  also  is  real,  and  not  a 
mere  conception.  The  pain  you  have  suffered  has  not  been  the 
pain  of  matter,  but  the  pain  of  spirit.  Matter  can  not  suffer. 
Were  it  matter  that  suffered,  the  heated  sand  would  writhe  in 
agony.  No ;  it  is  only  mind  and  spirit  that  experience  pain,  or 
pleasure,  and  neither  mind  nor  spirit  can  evade  its  destiny,  even 
if  it  escape  from  the  body." 


MISERY.  265 

Then  I  awoke  and  saw  once  more  the  great  red  sun  rise  from 
the  sand-edge  of  my  desolate  world,  and  I  became  aware  of  a  new 
pain,  for  now  I  perceived  the  fact  that  I  experienced  the  sense 
of  thirst.  The  conception  of  the  impression  drew  my  mind  to 
•  the  subject,  and  instantly  intense  thirst,  the  most  acute  of  bodilv 
sufferings,  possessed  me.  When  vitalized  tissue  craves  water, 
other  physical  wants  are  unfelt ;  when  man  parches  to  death  all 
other  methods  of  torture  are  disregarded.  I  thought  no  longer 
of  the  rising  sun,  I  remembered  no  more  the  burning  sand  of 
yesterday,  I  felt  only  the  pain  of  thirst. 

"Water,  water,  water,"  I  cried,  and  then  in  the  distance  as  if 
in  answer  to  my  cry,  I  beheld  a  lake  of  water. 

Instantly  every  nerve  was  strained,  every  muscle  stretched, 
and  I  fled  over  the  sands  towards  the  welcome  pool. 

On  and  on  I  ran,  and  as  I  did  so,  the  sun  rising  higher  and 
higher,  again  began  to  burn  the  sands  beneath  my  feet,  and 
roast  the  flesh  upon  my  bones.  Once  more  I  experienced  that 
intolerable  sense  of  pain,  the  pain  of  living  flesh  disintegrating 
by  fire,  and  now  with  thirst  gnawing  at  my  vitals,  and  fire  drying 
up  the  residue  of  my  evaporated  blood,  I  struggled  in  agony 
towards  a  lake  that  vanished  before  my  gaze,  to  reappear  just 
beyond. 

This  day  was  more  horrible  than  the  preceding,  and  yet  it 
was  the  reverse  so  far  as  the  action  of  the  sun  on  my  flesh  was 
concerned.  My  prayer  of  yesterday  had  been  fearfully  answered, 
and  the  curses  of  the  day  preceding  were  being  visited  upon  my 
very  self.  I  had  prayed  to  become  lean,  and  instead  of  the 
former  puffed  tissue  and  expanded  flesh,  my  body  contracted  as 
does  beef  when  dried.  The  tightening  skin  squeezed  upon  the 
solidifying  flesh,  and  as  the  moisture  evaporated,  it  left  a  shriv- 
eled integument,  contracted  close  upon  the  bone.  My  joints 
stood  out  as  great  protuberances,  my  skin  turned  to  a  dark  amber 
color,  and  my  flesh  became  transparent  as  does  wetted  horn. 
I  saw  my  very  vitals  throb,  I  saw  the  empty  blood  vessels,  the 
shriveled  nerves  and  vacant  arteries  of  my  frame.  I  could  not 
close  my  eyes.  I  could  not  shield  them  from  the  burning  sun.  I 
was  a  mummy,  yet  living,  a  dried  corpse  walking  over  the  sand, 
dead  to  all  save  pain.  I  tried  to  fall,  but  could  not,  and  I  felt 
that,  while  the  sun  was  visible,  I  must  stand  upright ;  T  could 


266  ETIDORHPA. 

not  stop,  and  could  not  stoop.  Then  at  last  the  malevolent  sun 
sank  beneath  the  horizon,  and  as  the  last  ray  disappeared  again, 
I  fell  upon  the  sand. 

I  did  not  sleep,  I  did  not  rest,  I  did  not  breathe  nor  live  a 
human ;  I  only  existed  as  a  living  pain,  the  conception  of  pain 
realized  into  a  conscious  nucleus,  —  and  so  the  night  passed. 
Again  the  sun  arose,  and  with  the  light  of  her  first  ray  I  saw 
near  at  hand  a  caravan,  camels,  men,  horses,  a  great  cavalcade. 
They  approached  rapidly  and  surrounded  me.  The  leader  of  the 
band  alighted  and  raised  me  to  my  feet,  for  no  longer  had  I  the 
power  of  motion.  He  spoke  to  me  kindly,  and  strange  as  it  may 
seem  to  you,  but  not  at  all  strange  did  it  seem  to  me,  called  me 
by  name. 

"  We  came  across  your  tracks  in  the  desert,"  he  said;  "  we  are 
your  deliverers." 

I  motioned  for  water ;  I  could  not  speak. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "water  you  shall  have." 

Then  from  one  of  the  skins  that  hung  across  the  hump  of  a 
camel  he  filled  a  crystal  goblet  with  sparkling  water,  and  held  it 
towards  me,  but  just  before  the  goblet  touched  my  lips  he  with- 
drew it  and  said : 

"  I  forgot  to  first  extend  the  greetings  of  our  people." 

And  then  I  noticed  in  his  other  hand  a  tiny  glass  containing 
a  green  liquid,  which  he  placed  to  my  lips,  pronouncing  the 
single  word,  "  Drink." 

I  fastened  my  gaze  upon  the  water,  and  oi3ened  my  lips.  I 
smelled  the  aroma  of  the  powerful  narcotic  liquid  within  the 
glass,  and  hastened  to  obey,  but  glanced  first  at  my  deliverer, 
and  in  his  stead  saw  the  familiar  face  of  the  satanic  figure  that 
twice  before  had  tempted  me.  Instantly,  without  a  thought  as 
to  the  consequences,  without  a  fear  as  to  the  result,  I  dashed  the 
glass  to  the  sand,  and  my  voice  returning,  I  cried  for  the  third 
time,  "No;  I  will  not  drink." 

The  troop  of  camels  instantly  disappeared,  as  had  the  figures 
in  the  scenes  before,  the  tempter  resolved  into  clear  air,  the  sand 
beneath  my  feet  became  natural  again,  and  I  became  myself  as 
I  had  been  before  passing  through  the  hideous  ordeal.  The  fact 
of  my  deliverance  from  the  earth  caverns  had,  I  now  realized, 
been  followed  by  temporary  aberration  of  my  mind,  but  at  last 


MISKRY.  267 

I  saw  clearly  again,  the  painful  fancy  had  passed,  the  delirium 
was  over. 

I  fell  upon  my  knees  in  thankfulness ;  the  misery  through 
which  I  had  passed  had  proven  to  be  illusory,  the  earth  caverns 
were  beneath  me,  the  mirage  and  temptations  were  not  real,  the 
horrors  I  had  experienced  were  imaginary — thank  God  for  all 
this  —  and  that  the  sand  was  really  sand.  Solitary,  alone,  I 
kneeled  in  the  desert  barren,  from  horizon  to  horizon  desolation 
only  surrounded,  and  yet  the  scene  of  that  illimitable  waste, 
a  fearful  reality,  it  is  true,  was  sweet  in  comparison  with  the 
misery  of  body  and  soul  about  which  I  had  dreamed  so  vividly. 

'"Tis  no  wonder,"  I  said  to  myself,  "that  in  the  moment  of 
transition  from  the  underground  caverns  to  the  sunshine  above, 
the  shock  should  have  disturbed  my  mental  equilibrium,  and  in 
the  moment  of  reaction  I  should  have  dreamed  fantastic  and 
horrible  imaginings." 

A  cool  and  refreshing  breeze  sprung  now,  from  I  know  not 
where;  I  did  not  care  to  ask;  it  was  too  welcome  a  gift  to 
question,  and  contrasted  pleasantly  with  the  misery  of  my  past 
hallucination.  The  sun  was  shining  hot  above  me,  the  sand 
was  glowing,  parched  beneath  me,  and  yet  the  grateful  breeze 
fanned  my  brow,  and  refreshed  my  spirit. 

"Thank  God,"  I  cried,  "for  the  breeze,  for  the  coolness  that 
it  brings ;  only  those  who  have  experienced  the  silence  of  the 
cavern  solitudes  through  which  I  have  passed,  and  added  thereto, 
have  sensed  the  horrors  of  the  more  recent  nightmare  scenes, 
can  appreciate  the  delights  of  a  gust  of  air." 

The  incongruity  of  surrounding  conditions,  as  connected 
with  affairs  rational,  did  not  appeal  at  all  to  my  questioning 
senses,  it  seemed  as  though  the  cool  breeze,  coming  from  out  the 
illimitable  desolation  of  a  heated  waste  was  natural.  I  arose 
and  walked  on,  refreshed.  From  out  that  breeze  my  physical 
self  drew  refreshment  and  strength. 

'"Tis  the  cold,"  I  said;  "the  blessed  antithesis  of  heat, 
that  supports  life.  Heat  enervates,  cold  stimulates ;  heat 
depresses,  cold  animates.  Thank  God  for  breezes,  winds, 
waters,  cold." 

I  turned  and  faced  the  gladsome  breeze.  "  'T  is  the  source 
■of  life,  I  will  trace  it  to  its  origin,  I  will  leave   the  accursed 


2G8  ETIDORHPA. 

desert,  the  hateful  sunshine,  and  seek  the  blissful  regions  that 
give  birth  to  cool  breezes." 

I  walked  rapidly,  and  the  breeze  became  more  energetic  and 
cooler.  With  each  increase  of  momentum  on  my  part,  corre- 
sponding strength  seemed  to  be  added  to  the  breeze — both 
strength  and  coolness. 

"  Is  not  this  delightful  ?"  I  murmured;  "  my  God  at  last  has 
come  to  be  a  just  God.  Knowing  what  I  wanted,  He  sent  the 
breeze ;  in  answer  to  my  prayer  the  cool,  refreshing  breeze  arose. 
Damn  the  heat,"  I  cried  aloud,  as  I  thought  of  the  horrid  day 
before;  "blessed  be  the  cold,"  and  as  though  in  answer  to  my 
cry  the  breeze  stiffened  and  the  cold  strengthened  itself,  and  I 
again  returned  thanks  to  my  Creator. 

With  ragged  coat  wrapped  about  ni)'  form  I  faced  the  breeze 
and  strode  onward  towards  the  home  of  the  gelid  wind  that  now 
dashed  in  gusts  against  my  person. 

Then  I  heard  my  footstep  crunch,  and  perceived  that  the 
sand  was  hard  beneath  my  feet ;  I  stooped  over  to  examine  it 
and  found  it  frozen.  Strange,  I  reflected,  strange  that  dry  sand 
can  freeze,  and  then  I  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  spurts  of 
snow  surrounded  me,  't  was  a  sleety  mixture  upon  which  I  trod, 
a  crust  of  snow  and  sand.  A  sense  of  dread  came  suddenly  over 
me,  and  instinctively  I  turned,  affrighted,  and  ran  away  from 
the  wind,  towards  the  desert  behind  me,  back  towards  the  sun, 
which,  cold  and  bleak,  low  in  the  horizon,  was  sinking.  The 
sense  of  dread  grew  upon  me,  and  I  shivered  as  I  ran.  With 
my  back  towards  the  breeze  I  had  blessed,  I  now  fled  towards 
the  sinking  sun  I  had  cursed.  I  stretched  out  my  arms  in 
supplication  towards  that  orb,  for  from  behind  overhanging 
blackness  spread,  and  about  me  roared  a  fearful  hurricane. 
Vainly.  As  I  thought  in  mockery  the  heartless  sun  disappeared 
before  my  gaze,  the  hurricane  surrounded  me,  and  the  wind 
about  me  became  intensely  cold,  and  raved  furiously.  It  seemed 
as  though  the  sun  had  fled  from  my  presence,  and  with  the 
disappearance  of  that  orb,  the  outline  of  the  earth  was  blotted 
from  existence.  It  was  an  awful  l)lackness,  and  the  universe  was 
now  to  me  a  blank.  Tlie  cold  strengthened  and  froze  my  body 
to  the  marrow  of  my  bones.  First  came  the  sting  of  frost, 
then  the  pain  of  cold,  then  insensibility  of  flesh.     My  feet  were 


MISERY.  269 

benumbed,  my  limbs  motionless.  I  stood  a  statue,  quiescent  in 
the  midst  of  the  roaring  tempest.  The  earth,  the  sun,  the  heav- 
ens themselves,  my  very  person  now  had  disappeared.  Dead  to 
the  sense  of  pain  or  touch,  sightless,  amid  a  blank,  only  the  noise 
of  the  raging  winds  was  to  me  a  reality.  And  as  the  creaking 
frost  reached  my  brain  and  congealed  it,  the  sound  of  the  tempest 
ceased,  and  then  devoid  of  physical  senses,  my  quickened  intel- 
lect, enslaved,  remained  imprisoned  in  the  frozen  form  it  could 
not  leave,  and  yet  could  no  longer  control. 

Reflection  after  reflection  passed  through  that  incarcerated 
thought  entity,  and  as  I  meditated,  the  heinous  mistakes  I  had 
committed  in  the  life  that  had  passed,  arose  to  torment.  God 
had  answered  my  supplications,  successively  I  had  experienced 
the  hollowness  of  earthly  pleasures,  and  had  left  each  lesson 
unheeded.  Had  I  not  alternately  begged  for  and  then  cursed 
each  gift  of  God?  Had  I  not  prayed  for  heat,  cold,  light,  and 
darkness,  and  anathematized  each  ?  Had  I  not,  when  in  perfect 
silence,  prayed  for  sound ;  in  sheltered  caverns,  prayed  for  winds 
and  storms  ;  in  the  very  corridors  of  heaven,  and  in  the  presence 
of  Etidorhpa,  had  I  not  sought  for  joys  beyond? 

Had  I  not  found  each  pleasure  of  life  a  mockery,  and  not- 
withstanding each  bitter  lesson,  still  pursued  my  headstrong 
course,  alternately  blessing  and  cursing  my  Creator,  and  then 
myself,  until  now,  amid  a  howling  waste,  in  perfect  darkness,  my 
conscious  intellect  was  bound  to  the  frozen,  rigid  semblance  of  a 
body?  All  about  me  was  dead  and  dark,  all  within  was  still  and 
cold,  only  my  quickened  intellect  remained  as  in  every  corpse 
the  self-conscious  intellect  must  remain,  while  the  body  has  a 
mortal  form,  for  death  of  body  is  not  attended  by  the  immediate 
liberation  of  mind.  The  consciousness  of  the  dead  man  is  still 
acute,  and  he  who  thinks  the  dead  are  mindless,  will  realize  his 
fearful  error  when  devoid  of  motion  he  lies  a  corpse,  conscious 
of  all  that  passes  on  around  him,  waiting  the  liberation  that  can 
only  come  by  disintegration  and  destruction  of  the  flesh. 

So,  unconscious  of  pain,  unconscious  of  any  physical  sense, 
I  existed  on  and  on,  enthralled,  age  after  age  passed  and  piled 
upon  one  another,  for  time  was  to  me  unchangeable,  no  more  an 
entity.  I  now  prayed  for  change  of  any  kind,  and  envied  the 
very  devils  in  hell  their  pleasures,  for  were  they  not  gifted  with 


270  p:tidorhpa. 

the  power  of  motion,  could  they  not  hear,  and  see,  and  realize 
the  pains  they  suffered?  I  prayed  for  death — death  absolute, 
death  eternal.  Then,  at  last,  the  darkness  seemed  to  lessen,  and 
I  saw  the  frozen  earth  beneath,  the  monstrous  crates  of  ice  above, 
the  raging  tempest  about,  for  I  now  had  learned  by  reflection  to 
perceive  by  pure  intellect,  to  see  by  the  light  within.  My  body, 
solid  as  stone,  was  fixed  and  preserved  in  a  waste  of  ice.  The 
world  was  frozen.  I  perceived  that  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars, 
nearly  stilled,  dim  and  motionless,  had  paled  in  the  cold  depths 
of  space.  The  universe  itself  was  freezing,  and  amid  the  desola- 
tion only  my  deserted  intellect  remained.  Age  after  age  had 
passed,  aeons  of  ages  had  fled,  nation  after  nation  had  grown  and 
perished,  and  in  the  uncounted  epochs  behind,  humanity  had 
disappeared.  Unable  to  free  itself  from  the  frozen  body,  my  own 
intellect  remained  the  solitary  spectator  of  the  dead  silence  about. 
At  last,  beneath  ni}-  vision,  the  moon  disappeared,  the  stars  faded 
one  by  one,  and  then  I  watched  the  sun  grow  dim,  until  at 
length  only  a  milky,  gauze-like  film  remained  to  indicate  her 
face,  and  then — vacancy.  I  had  lived  the  universe  away.  And 
in  perfect  darkness  the  living  intellect,  conscious  of  all  that  had 
transpired  in  the  ages  past,  clung  still  enthralled  to  the  body  of 
the  frozen  mortal.  I  thought  of  my  record  in  the  distant  past,  of 
the  temptations  I  had  undergone,  and  called  myself  a  fool,  for, 
had  I  listened  to  the  tempter,  I  could  at  least  have  sufi'ered,  I 
could  have  had  companionship  even  though  it  were  of  the 
devils — in  hell.  I  lived  my  life  over  and  over,  times  without 
number ;  I  thought  of  my  tempters,  of  the  offered  cups,  and 
thinking,  argued  with  myself: 

"No,"  I  said;  "no,  I  had  made  the  promise,  I  have  faith  in 
Etidorhpa,  and  were  it  to  do  over  again  I  would  not  drink." 

Then,  as  this  thought  sped  from  me,  the  ice  scene  dissolved, 
the  enveloped  frozen  form  of  myself  faded  from  view,  the  sand 
shrunk  into  nothingness,  and  with  my  natural  body,  and  in 
normal  condition,  I  found  myself  back  in  the  earth  cavqrn,  on 
my  knees,  beside  the  curious  inverted  fungus,  of  which  fruit  I 
had  eaten  in  obedience  to  my  guide's  directions.  Before  me  the 
familiar  figure  of  my  guide  stood,  with  folded  arms,  and  as  my 
gaze  fell  upon  him  he  reached  out  his  hand  and  raised  me  to 
my  feet. 


MISERY.  271 

"Where  have  you  been  during  the  wretched  epochs  that 
have  passed  since  I  last  saw  you?"  I  asked, 

''I  have  been  here,"  he  replied,  "and  you  have  been  there." 

"You  lie,  you  villainous  sorcerer,"  I  cried;  "you  lie  again  as 
you  have  lied  to  me  before.  I  followed  you  to  the  edge  of  demon 
land,  to  the  caverns  of  the  drunkards,  and  then  you  deserted 
me.  Since  last  we  met  I  have  spent  a  million,  billion  years  of 
agony  inexpressible,  and  have  had  that  agony  made  doubh- 
horrible  by  contrast  with  the  thought,  yes,  the  very  sight  and 
touch  of  Heaven.  I  passed  into  a  double  eternity,  and  have 
experienced  the  ecstacies  of  the  blessed,  and  suffered  the  tor- 
ments of  the  damned,  and  now  you  dare  boldly  tell  me  that  I 
have  been  here,  and  that  you  have  been  there,  since  last  I  saw 
you  stand  by  this  cursed  fungus  bowl." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  taking  no  offense  at  my  violence  ;  "  yes,  neither 
of  us  has  left  this  spot;  you  have  sipped  of  the  drink  of  an 
earth-damned  drunkard,  you  have  experienced  part  of  the  curses 
of  intemperance,  the  delirium  of  narcotics.  Thousands  of  men 
on  earth,  in  their  drunken  hallucination,  have  gone  through 
hotter  hells  than  you  have  seen  ;  your  dream  has  not  exaggerated 
the  sufferings  of  those  who  sup  of  the  delirium  of  intemperance." 

And  then  he  continued : 

"Let  me  tell  you  of  man's  conception  of  eternity." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

ETERNITY    WITHOUT    TI.MK. 

"  Man's  conception  of  eternity  is  that  of  infinite  duration, 
continuance  without  beginning  or  end,  and  yet  everything  he 
knows  is  bounded  by  two  or  more  opposites.  From  a  beginning, 
as  he  sees  a  form  of  matter,  that  substance  passes  to  an  end." 
Thus  spoke  my  guide. 

Then  he  asked,  and  showed  by  his  question  that  he  appreci- 
ated the  nature  of  my  recent  experiences :  "  Do  you  recall  the 
instant  that  you  left  me  standing  by  this  bowl  to  start,  as  you 
imagined,  with  me  as  a  companion,  on  the  journey  to  the  cavern 
of  the  grotesque?" 

"  No ;  because  I  did  not  leave  you.  I  sipped  of  the  liquid,  and 
then  you  moved  on  with  me  from  this  spot ;  we  were  together, 
until  at  last  we  were  separated  on  the  edge  of  the  cave  of 
drunkards." 

"Listen,"  said  he;  "I  neither  left  you  nor  went  with  you. 
You  neither  went  from  this  spot  nor  came  back  again.  You 
neither  saw  nor  experienced  my  presence  nor  my  absence ;  there 
was  no  beginning  to  your  journey." 

"Goon." 

"  You  ate  of  the  narcotic  fungus;  you  have  been  intoxicated." 

"  I  have  not,"  I  retorted.  "  I  have  been  through  your  accursed 
caverns,  and  into  hell  beyond.  I  have  been  consumed  by  eternal 
damnation  in  the  journey,  have  experienced  a  heaven  of  delight, 
and  also  an  eternity  of  misery." 

"Upon  the  contrary,  the  time  that  has  passed  since  you 
drank  the  liquid  contents  of  that  fungus  fruit  has  only  been  that 
which  permitted  you  to  fall  upon  }'Our  knees.  You  swallowed 
the  liquor  when  I  handed  you  the  shell  cup ;  you  dropped  upon 
your  knees,  and  then  instantly  awoke.  See,"  he  said;  "  in  corro- 
boration of  my  assertion  the  shell  of  the  fungus  fruit  at  your 
feet  is  still  dripping  with  the  liquid  you  did  not  drink.     Time 


ETKRNITV  WITHOUT  TIME.  273 

has  been  annihilated.  Under  the  influence  of  this  potent  earth- 
bred  narcoto-intoxicant,  your  dream  begun  inside  of  eternity; 
you  did  not  pass  into  it." 

"You  say,"  I  interrupted,  "that  I  dropped  upon  my  knees, 
that  I  have  experienced  the  hallucination  of  intoxication,  that 
the  experiences  of  my  vision  occurred  during  the  second  of  time 
that  was  required  for  me  to  drop  upon  my  knees." 

"Yes." 

"Then  by  your  own  argument  you  demonstrate  that  eternity 
requires  time,  for  even  a  millionth  part  of  a  second  is  time,  as 
much  so  as  a  million  of  years." 

"You  mistake,"  he  replied,  "you  misinterpret  my  words.  I 
said  that  all  you  experienced  in  your  eternity  of  suffering  and 
pleasure,  occurred  between  the  point  when  you  touched  the 
fungus  fruit  to  your  lips,  and  that  when  your  knees  struck  the 
stone." 

"  That  consumed  time,"  I  answered. 

"  Did  I  assert,"  he  questioned,  "  that  your  experiences  were 
scattered  over  that  entire  period?" 

"No." 

"  May  not  all  that  occurred  to  your  mind  have  been  crushed 
into  the  second  that  accompanied  the  mental  impression  produced 
by  the  liquor,  or  the  second  of  time  that  followed,  or  any  other 
part  of  that  period,  or  a  fraction  of  any  integral  second  of  that 
period?" 

"I  can  not  say,"  I  answered,  "what  part  of  the  period  the 
hallucination,  as  you  call  it,  occupied." 

"  You  admit  that  so  far  as  your  conception  of  time  is  con- 
cerned, the  occurrences  to  which  you  refer  may  have  existed  in 
either  an  unestimable  fraction  of  the  first,  the  second,  or  the 
third  part  of  the  period." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "yes;  if  you  are  correct  in  that,  they  were 
illusions." 

"Let  me  ask  you  furthermore,"  he  said;  "are  you  sure  that 
the  flash  that  bred  your  hallucination  was  not  instantaneous,  and 
a  part  of  neither  the  first,  second,  or  third  second  ?" 
"Continue  your  argument." 

"  I  will  repeat  a  preceding  question  with  a  slight  modification. 
May  not  all  that  occurred  to  your  mind  have  been  crushed  into 


274  KTIIX^RHPA. 

the  space  between  the  second  of  time  that  preceded  the  mental 
impression  produced  by  the  liqnor,  and  the  second  that  followed 
it?  Need  it  have  been  a  part  of  either  second,  or  of  time  at  all? 
Indeed,  could  it  have  been  a  part  of  time  if  it  were  instantaneous?" 

"Goon." 

"  Suppose  the  entity  that  men  call  the  soul  of  man  were  in 
process  of  separation  from  the  body.  The  process  you  will  admit 
would  occupy  time,  until  the  point  of  liberation  was  reached. 
Would  not  dissolution,  so  far  as  the  separation  of  matter  and 
spirit  is  concerned  at  its  critical  point  be  instantaneous?" 

I  made  no  reply. 

"  If  the  critical  point  is  instantaneous,  there  would  be  no 
beginning,  there  could  be  no  end.  Therein  rests  an  eternity 
greater  than  man  can  otherwise  conceive  of,  for  as  there  is 
neither  beginning  nor  end,  time  and  space  are  annihilated.  The 
line  that  separates  the  soul  that  is  in  the  body  from  the  soul  that 
is  out  of  the  body  is  outside  of  all  things.  It  is  a  betw^een, 
neither  a  part  of  the  nether  side  nor  of  the  upper  side ;  it  is 
outside  the  here  and  the  here-after.  Let  us  carry  this  thought  a 
little  further,"  said  he.  "  Suppose  a  good  man  were  to  undergo 
this  change,  could  not  all  that  an  eternity  of  happiness  might 
offer  be  crushed  into  this  boundless  conception,  the  critical 
point?  All  that  a  mother  craves  in  children  dead,  could  reappear 
again  in  their  once  loved  forms ;  all  that  a  good  life  earns,  would 
rest  in  the  soul's  experience  in  that  eternity,  but  not  as  an 
illusion,  although  no  mental  pleasure,  no  physical  pain  is  equal 
to  that  of  hallucinations.  vSuppose  that  a  vicious  life  were 
ended,  could  it  escape  the  inevitable  critical  point?  Would  not 
that  life  in  its  previous  journey  create  its  own  sad  eternity?  You 
have  seen  the  working  of  an  eternity  with  an  end  but  not  a 
beo-inninsf  to  it,  for  you  can  not  sense  the  commencement  of 
your  vision.  You  have  been  in  the  cavern  of  the  grotesque, — 
the  realms  of  the  beautiful,  and  have  walked  over  the  boundless 
sands  that  bring  misery  to  the  soul,  and  have,  as  a  statue,  seen 
the  frozen  universe  dissolve.  You  are  thankful  that  it  was  all  an 
illusion  as  you  deem  it  now;  what  would  you  think  had  only  the 
heavenly  part  been  spread  before  you?" 

"I  would  have  cursed  the  man  who  dispelled  the  illusion,"  I 
answered. 


ETERNITY  WITHOUT  TIME.  275 

"Then,"  he  said,  "you  are  willing  to  admit  that  men  who  so 
live  as  to  gain  snch  an  eternity,  be  it  mental  illusion,  hallucina- 
tion or  real,  make  no  mistake  in  life." 

"I  do,"  I  replied;  "but  you  confound  me  when  you  argue  in 
so  cool  a  manner  that  eternity  may  be  everlasting  to  the  soul, 
and  yet  without  the  conception  of  time." 

"  Did  I  not  teach  you  in  the  beginning  of  this  journey,"  he 
interjected,  "  that  time  is  not  as  men  conceive  it.  Men  can  not 
grasp  an  idea  of  eternity  and  retain  their  sun  bred,  morning  and 
evening,  conception  of  time.  Therein  lies  their  error.  As  the 
tip  of  the  whip-lash  passes  with  the  lash,  so  through  life  the  soul 
of  man  proceeds  with  the  body.  As  there  is  a  point  just  when 
the  tip  of  the  whip-lash  is  on  the  edge  of  its  return,  where  all 
motion  of  the  line  that  bounds  the  tip  ends,  so  there  is  a  motion- 
less point  when  the  soul  starts  onward  from  the  body  of  man. 
As  the  tip  of  the  whip  lash  sends  its  cry  through  space,  not 
while  it  is  in  motion  either  way,  but  from  the  point  where 
motion  ceases,  the  spaceless,  timeless  point  that  lies  between 
the  backward  and  the  forward,  so  the  soul  of  man  leaves  a  cry 
(eternity)  at  the  critical  point.  It  is  the  death  echo,  and  thus 
each  snap  of  the  life-thread  throws  an  eternity,  its  own  eternity, 
into  eternity's  seas,  and  each  eternity  is  made  up  of  the  entities 
thus  cast  from  the  critical  point.  With  the  end  of  each  soul's 
earth  journey,  a  new  eternity  springs  into  existence,  occupying 
no  space,  consuming  no  time,  and  not  conflicting  with  any  other, 
each  being  exactly  what  the  soul-earth  record  makes  it,  an 
eternity  of  joy  (heaven),  or  an  eternity  of  anguish  (hell).  There 
can  be  no  neutral  ground." 

Then  he  continued : 

"  The  drunkard  is  destined  to  suffer  in  the  drunkard's  eternity,, 
as  3'OU  have  suffered ;  the  enticement  of  drink  is  evanescent,. 
the  agony  to  follow  is  eternal.  You  have  seen  that  the  sub- 
regions  of  earth  supply  an  intoxicant.  Taste  not  again  of  any 
intoxicant ;  let  your  recent  lesson  be  your  last.  Any  stimulant 
is  an  enemy  to  man,  any  narcotic  is  a  fiend.  It  destroys  its 
victim,  and  corrupts  the  mind,  entices  it  into  pastures  grotesque, 
and  even  pleasant  at  first,  but  destined  to  eternal  misery  in  the 
end.     Beware  of  the  eternity  that  follows  the  snapping  of  the 


276  ETIDORHPA. 

life-thread  of  a  drunkard.      Come,"  he  abruptly  said,  "  we  will 
pursue  our  journey." 

[  Note.— Morphine,  belladonna,  hyoscyamus,  and  cannabis  indica  are  narcotics,  and  j-et 
each  differs  in  its  action  from  the  others.  Alcohol  and  methyl  alcohol  arc  intoxicants;  ether, 
chloroform,  and  chloral  are  anesthetics,  and  yet  no  two  are  possessed  of  the  same  qualities. 
Is  there  any  good  reason  to  doubt  that  a  hidden  combination  of  the  elements  can  not  cause 
hallucinations  that  combine  and  intensify  the  most  virulent  of  narcotics,  intoxicants,  and 
antesthetics,  and  pall  the  effects  of  hashish,  or  of  opium? 

If,  in  the  course  of  experimentation,  a  chemist  should  strike  upon  a  compound  that  in 
traces  only  would  subject  his  mind  and  drive  his  pen  to  record  such  seemingly  extravagant 
ideas  as  are  found  in  the  hallucinations  herein  pictured,  or  to  frame  word-sentences  foreign 
to  normal  conditions,  and  beyond  his  natural  ability,  and  yet  could  he  not  know  the  end  of 
such  a  drug,  would  it  not  be  his  duty  to  bury  the  discovery  from  others,  to  cover  from  man- 
kind the  existence  of  such  a  noxious  fruit  of  the  chemist's  or  pharmaceutist's  art  ?  To  sip  once 
or  twice  of  such  a  potent  liquid,  and  then  to  write  lines  that  tell  the  story  of  its  power  may 
do  no  harm  to  an  individual  on  his  guard,  but  mankind  in  common  should  never  possess  such 
a  penetrating  essence.  Introduce  such  an  intoxicant,  and  start  it  to  ferment  in  humanity's 
blood,  and  it  inaj'  spread  from  soul  to  soul,  until,  before  the  world  is  advised  of  its  possible 
results,  the  ever-increasing  potency  will  gain  such  headway  as  to  destroy,  or  debase,  our  civ- 
ilization, and  even  to  exterminate  mankind.— J.  U.  I,.] 


INTERLUDE. 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE   LAST   CONTEST. 

I,  Le welly  11  Drury,  had  been  so  absorbed  in  tlie  fantastic 
story  the  old  man  read  so  fluently  from  the  execrably  written 
manuscript,  and  in  the  metaphysical  argument  which  followed 
his  account  of  the  vision  he  had  introduced  so  artfully  as  to  lead 
me  to  think  it  was  a  part  of  his  narrative,  that  I  scarcely  noted 
the  passage  of  time.  Upon  seeing  him  suspend  his  reading, 
fold  the  manuscript,  and  place  it  in  his  pocket,  I  reverted  to 
material  things,  and  glancing  at  the  clock,  perceived  that  the 
hands  pointed  to  bed-time. 

"  To-morrow  evening,"  said  he,  "  I  will  return  at  nine  o'clock. 
In  the  interim,  if  you  still  question  any  part  of  the  story,  or 
wish  further  information  on  any  subject  connected  with  my 
journey,  I  will  be  prepared  to  answer  your  queries.  Since,  how- 
ever, that  will  be  your  last  opportunity,  I  suggest  that  you  make 
notes  of  all  subjects  that  you  wish  to  discuss." 

Then,  in  his  usual  self-possessed,  exquisitely  polite  manner, 
he  bowed  himself  out. 

I  spent  the  next  day  reviewing  the  most  questionable  features 
of  his  history,  recalling  the  several  statements  that  had  been 
made.  Remembering  the  humiliation  I  had  experienced  in  my 
previous  attempts  to  confute  him,  I  determined  to  select  such 
subjects  as  would  appear  the  most  difficult  to  explain,  and  to 
attack  the  old  man  with  vehemence. 

I  confess,  that  notwithstanding  my  several  failures,  and  his 
successful  and  constant  elucidation  and  minute  details  in  regard 
to  occurrences  which  he  related,  and  which  anticipated  many 
points  I  had  once  had  in  mind  to  question,  misgivings  still 
possessed   me    concerning    the    truthfulness   of    the   story.      If 


278  ETIDORHPA. 

these  remarkable  episodes  were  true,  could  there  be  such  a 
thing  as  fiction?  If  not  all  true,  where  did  fact  end  and  fancy 
begin  ? 

Accordingly  I  devoted  the  following  day  to  meditating  my 
plan  of  attack,  for  I  felt  that  I  had  been  challenged  to  a  final 
contest.  Late  the  next  day,  I  felt  confident  of  my  own  ability  to 
dispossess  him,  and  in  order  further  to  test  his  power,  when  night 
came  I  doubly  locked  the  door  to  my  room,  first  with  the  kc)- 
and  next  with  the  inside  bolt.  I  had  determined  to  force  him 
again  to  induce  inert  material  to  obey  his  command,  as  he  had 
done  at  our  first  interview.  The  reader  will  remember  that 
Prof.  Chickering  had  deemed  that  occurrence  an  illusion,  and  I 
confess  that  time  had  dimmed  the  vividness  of  the  scene  in  my 
own  mind.  Hence  I  proposed  to  verify  the  matter.  Therefore, 
at  the  approach  of  nine  o'clock,  the  evening  following,  I  sat  with 
my  gaze  riveted  on  the  bolt  of  the  door,  determined  not  to 
answer  his  knock. 

He  gave  me  no  chance  to  neglect  a  response  to  his  rap. 
Exactly  at  the  stroke  of  nine  the  door  swung  noiselessly  on  its 
hinges,  the  wizard  entered,  and  the  door  closed  again.  The  bolt 
had  not  moved,  the  knob  did  not  turn.  The  bar  passed  through 
the  catch  and  back  to  its  seat, — I  sprung  from  my  chair,  and 
excitedly  and  rudely  rushed  past  my  guest.  I  grasped  the  knob, 
wrenched  it  with  all  my  might.  Vainly;  the  door  was  locked, 
the  bolt  was  fastened.  Then  I  turned  to  my  visitor.  He  was 
quietly  seated  in  his  accustomed  place,  and  apparently  failed  to 
notice  my  discomposure,  although  he  must  have  realized  that  he 
had  withstood  my  first  test. 

This  pronounced  defeat,  at  the  very  beginning  of  our  proposed 
contest,  produced  a  depressing  effect;  nevertheless  I  made  an 
effort  at  self-control,  and  seating  myself  opposite,  looked  my 
antagonist  in  the  face.  Calm,  dignified,  with  the  brow  of  a 
philosopher,  and  the  countenance  of  a  philanthropist,  a  perfect 
type  of  the  exquisite  gentleman,  and  the  cultured  scholar,  my 
guest,  as  serene  and  complacent  as  though,  instead  of  an  intnider, 
he  were  an  invited  participant  of  the  comforts  of  my  fireside,  or 
even  the  host  himself,  laid  his  hat  upon  the  table,  stroked  his 
silvery,  translucent  beard,  and  said: 

"  Well  1"' 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  279 

I  accepted  the  challenge,  for  the  word,  as  he  emphasized  it, 
was  a  challenge,  and  hurled  at  him,  in  hopes  to  catch  him 
unprepared,  the  following  abrupt  sentence : 

"  I  doubt  the  possibility  of  the  existence  of  a  great  cavern 
such  as  you  have  described.  The  superincumbent  mass  of  earth 
would  crush  the  strongest  metal.  No  material  known  to  man 
could  withstand  a  pressure  so  great  as  would  overlie  an  arch  as 
large  as  that  you  depict ;  material  would  succumb  even  if  the 
roof  were  made  of  steel." 

"  Do  not  be  so  positive,"  he  replied.  "  By  what  authority  do 
you  make  this  assertion?" 

"  By  the  authority  of  common  sense  as  opposed  to  an  unrea- 
sonable hypothesis.  You  should  know  that  there  is  a  limit  to 
the  strength  of  all  things,  and  that  no  substance  is  capable  of 
making  an  arch  of  thousands  of  miles,  wdiich,  according  to  your 
assertion,  must  have  been  the  diameter  of  the  roof  of  your 
inland  sea." 

"  Ah,"  he  replied,  "  and  so  you  again  crush  my  facts  with 
your  theory.     Well,  let  me  ask  a  question." 

"  Proceed." 

"  Did  you  ever  observe  a  bubble  resting  on  a  bubble?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  place  a  pipe-stem  in  a  partly  filled  bowl  of 
soap  water,  and  by  blowing  through  it  fill  the  bowl  with 
bubbles?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  calculate  the  tensile  strength  of  the  material 
from  which  you  blew  the  bubble?" 

"No;  for  soap  water  has  no  appreciable  strength." 

"  And  yet  you  know  that  a  bubble  made  of  suds  has  not  only 
strength,  but  elasticity.  Suppose  a  bubble  of  energy  floating  in 
space  were  to  be  covered  to  the  depth  of  the  thickness  of  a 
sheet  of  tissue  paper  with  the  dust  of  space,  would  that  surprise 
you?" 

"No." 

"  Suppose  two  such  globes  of  energy,  covered  with  dust,  were 
to  be  telescoped  or  attached  together,  would  you  marvel  at  the 
fact  ?" 

"No." 


L'80 


ETIDORHPA. 


He  drew  a  picture  on  a  piece  of  paper,  in  which  one  line  was 
inclosed  by  another,  and  remarked : 

"  The  pencil  mark  on  this  paper  is  proportionately  thicker 
than    the    crust   of   the   earth    over   the   earth    cavern    I    have 
described.     Even  if  it  were  made  of  soap  suds,  it  could  revolve 
through  space  and  maintain  its  contour." 
"  But  the  earth  is  a  globe,"  I  interjected. 
"You  do  not  mean  an  exact  globe?" 
"No;  it  is  flattened  at  the  poles." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  two  thin  rubber  balls,  one  slightly 

larger  than  the  other.    With  his  knife  he  divided  the  larger  ball, 

AXIS  cutting  it  into  halves.     He  then  placed 

one  of  the  sections  upon  the  perfect 

A     ball,  and  held  the  arrangement  between 

A  the  jras  light  and  the  wall. 

"  See ;  is  not  the  shadow  flattened, 
as  your  earth  is,  at  the  poles?" 

"  Yes ;  but  the  earth  is  not  a  shadow." 
"  We  will  not  argue  that  point  now," 
he  replied,  and  then  asked:  "Suppose 
such  a  compound  shell  as  this  were  to 
revolve  through  space  and  continuously 
collect  dust,  most  of  it  of  the  earth's 
temperature,   forming   a   fluid   (water), 
would  not  that  dust  be  propelled  naturally  from  the  poles?" 
"Yes;  according  to  our  theory." 

"Perhaps,"  said  he,  "the  contact  edge  of  the  invisible 
spheres  of  energy  which  compose  your  earth  bubbles,  for  plan- 
ets are  bubbles,  that  have  been  covered  with  water  and  soil 
during  the  time  the  energy  bubble,  which  is  the  real  bone  of 
the  globe,  has  been  revolving  through  space;  perhaps,  could 
you  reach  the  foundation  of  the  earth  dust,  you  would  find  it 
not  a  perfect  sphere,  but  a  compound  skeleton,  as  of  two  bubbles 
locked,  or  rather  telescoped  together.     [See  Fig.  34.] 

"Are  you  sure  that  my  guide  did  not  lead  me  through  the 
space  between  the  bubbles?" 
Then  he  continued : 

"  Do  not  be  shocked  at  what  I  am  about  to  assert,  for,  as  a 
member  of  materialistic  humanity,  you  will  surely  consider  me 


AXIS 
Fig.  33. 
A  A,  telescoped  energy  spheres. 


THE  IvAvST  CONTEST. 


281 


B 


AXIS 
Fig.  34. 
B  B,  telescoped  energy  spheres  covered! 
with    space    dirt,    inclosing    space 
between. 


irrational  when  I  say  that  matter,  materials,  ponderous  sub- 
stances, one  and  all,  so  far  as  the  ponderous  part  is  concerned, 
have  no  strength." 

A  yic 

"What!  no  .strength  ?" 

"  None  whatever." 

I  grasped  the  poker. 

"  Is  not  this  matter?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  can  not  break  it." 

"No." 

"Have  not  I  strength?" 

"  Confine  your  argument  now 
to  the  poker  ;  we  wall  consider  you 
next.     You  can  not  break  it." 

"  I  can  break  this  pencil, 
though,"  and  I  snapped  it  in  his 
face. 

"Yes." 

I  curled  my  lip  in  disdain. 

"You  carry  this  argument  too  far." 

"Why?" 

"I  can  break  the  pencil,  I  can  not  break  the  poker;  had 
these  materials  not  different  strengths  there  could  be  no  distinc- 
tion ;  had  I  no  strength  I  could  not  have  broken  either." 

"Are  you  ready  to  listen?"  he  replied. 

"Yes;  but  do  not  exasperate  me." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  the  combination  you  call  a  poker  had 
no  strength,  neither  did  I  assert  that  you  could  not  break  a 
pencil." 

"  A  distinction  without  a  difference ;  you  play  upon  words." 

"  I  said  that  matter,  the  ponderous  side  of  material  sub- 
stances, has  no  strength." 

"And  I  say  differently." 

He  thrust  the  end  of  the  poker  into  the  fire,  and  soon  drew 
it  forth  red-hot. 

"  Is  it  as  strong  as  before?" 

"No." 

"Heat  it  to  whiteness  and  it  becomes  plastic." 

"Yes." 


2S2  ETIDORHPA. 

"  Heat  it  still  more  and  it  changes  to  a  liquid." 

"Yes." 

"Has  liquid  iron  strength?" 

"  Very  little,  if  any." 

"Is  it  still  matter?" 

"Yes." 

"  Is  it  the  material  of  the  iron,  or  is  it  the  energy  called  heat 
that  qualifies  the  strength  of  the  metal?  It  seems  to  me  that 
were  I  in  your  place  I  would  now  argue  that  absence  of  heat 
constitutes  strength,"  he  sarcastically  continued. 

"Goon." 

"Cool  this  red-hot  poker  by  thrusting  it  into  a  pail  of  cold 
water,  and  it  becomes  very  hard  and  brittle." 

"Yes." 

"Cool  it  slowly,  and  it  is  comparatively  soft  and  plastic." 

"  Yes." 

"The  material  is  the  same,  is  it  not?" 

"Goon." 

"What  strength  has  charcoal?" 

"  Scarcely  any." 

"Crystallize  it,  and  the  diamond  results." 

"  I  did  not  speak  of  diamond." 

"  Ah !  and  is  not  the  same  amount  of  the  same  material 
present  in  each,  a  grain  of  diamond  and  a  grain  of  charcoal? 
What  is  present  in  a  grain  of  diamond  that  is  not  present  in  a 
grain  of  charcoal?" 

"Goon." 

"Answer  my  question." 

"  I  can  not." 

"  Why  does  brittle,  cold  zinc,  when  heated,  become  first 
ductile,  and  then,  at  an  increased  temperature,  become  brittle 
again.     In  each  case  the  same  material  is  present?" 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  this  I  do  know :  I  am  an  organized 
being,  and  I  have  strength  of  body." 

The  old  man  grasped  the  heavy  iron  poker  with  both  hands, 
and  suddenly  rising  to  his  full  height,  swung  it  about  his  head, 
then  with  a  motion  so  menacing  that  I  shrunk  back  into  my 
chair  and  cried  out  in  alarm,  seemed  about  to  strike,  with  full 
force,  my  defenseless  brow. 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  283 

'*  My  God,"  I  shouted,  "  what  have  I  done  that  you  should 
murder  me?" 

He  lowered  the  weapon,  and  calmly  asked : 

"  Suppose  that  I  had  crushed  your  skull — where  then  would 
be  your  vaunted  strength?" 

I  made  no  reply,  for  as  yet  I  had  not  recovered  from  the 
mental  shock. 

"Could  you  then  have  snapped  a  pencil?  Could  you  have 
broken  a  reed?  Could  you  even  have  blown  the  down  from  a 
thistle  bloom?" 

"No." 

"Would  not  your  material  body  have  been  intact?" 

"  Yes." 

"Listen,"  said  he.  "Matter  has  no  strength,  matter  obeys 
spirit,  and  spirit  dominates  all  things  material.  Energy  in  some 
form  holds  particles  of  matter  together,  and  energy  in  other 
forms  loosens  them.  'Tis  this  imponderable  force  that  gives 
strength  to  substances,  not  the  ponderable  side  of  the  material. 
Granite  crushed  is  still  granite,  but  destitute  of  rigidity.  Crea- 
tures dead  are  still  organic  structures,  but  devoid  of  strength  or 
motion.  The  spirit  that  pervades  all  material  things  gives  to 
them  form  and  existence.  Take  from  your  earth  its  vital  spirit, 
the  energy  that  subjects  matter,  and  your  so-called  adamantine 
rocks  would  disintegrate,  and  sift  as  dust  into  the  interstices  of 
space.  Your  so-called  rigid  globe,  a  shell  of  space  dust,  would 
dissolve,  collapse,  and  as  the  spray  of  a  burst  bubble,  its  ponder- 
ous side  would  vanish  in  the  depths  of  force." 

I  sat  motionless. 

"Listen,"  he  repeated.  "You  wrong  your  own  common 
sense  when  you  place  dead  matter  above  the  spirit  of  matter. 
Atoms  come  and  go  in  their  ceaseless  transmigrations,  worlds 
move,  universes  circulate,  not  because  the}'  are  material  bodies, 
but  because  as  points  of  matter,  in  a  flood  of  force,  they  obey 
the  spirit  that  can  blot  out  a  sun,  or  dissolve  the  earth,  as  easily 
as  it  can  unlink  two  atoms.  Matter  is  an  illusion,  spirit  is  the 
reality." 

I  felt  that  he  had  silenced  me  against  my  will,  and  although 
I  could  not  gainsay  his  assertions,  I  determined  to  study  the 
subject  carefully,  at  my  leisure. 


284  ETIDORHPA. 

"As  you  please,"  he  interjected  into  my  musings;  "but  since 
vou  are  so  determined,  you  would  better  stud\'  from  books  that 
are  written  by  authors  who  know  whereof  they  write,  and  who 
are  not  obliged  to  theorize  from  speculative  data  concerning  the 
intrastructural  earth  crust." 

"But  where  can  I  find  such  works?     I  do  not  know  of  any.'' 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  cease  doubt- 
ing the  word  of  one  who  has  acquired  the  knowledge  to  write 
such  a  book,  and  who  has  no  object  in  misleading  you." 

"Still  other  questions  arise,"  I  said. 

"Well?" 

"I  consider  the  account  of  the  intra-earth  fungus  intoxicant 
beyond  the  realm  of  fact." 

"  In  what  respect?" 

"  The  perfect  loss  of  self  that  resulted  immediately,  in  an 
instant,  after  swallowing  the  juice  of  the  fungus  fruit,  so  that 
you  could  not  distinguish  between  the  real  guide  at  your  side 
and  the  phantom  that  sprung  into  existence,  is  incredible.  [See 
p.  234.]  An  element  of  time  is  a  factor  in  the  operation  of 
nerve  impressions."  * 

"Have  you  investigated  all  possible  anaesthetics?"  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  not." 

"Or  all  possible  narcotics?" 

"No." 

"  How  long  does  it  require  for  pure  prussic  acid  to  produce 
its  physiological  action?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

He  ignored  my  reply,  and  continued : 

"  Since  there  exists  a  relative  difference  between  the  time  that 
is  required  for  ether  and  chloroform  to  produce  insensibility,  and 
between  the  actions  and  resultant  effects  of  all  known  ancesthetics, 
intoxicants,  and  narcotics,  I  think  you  are  hypercritical.  Some 
nerve  excitants  known  to  you  act  slowly,  others  quickly;  win- 
not  others  still  instantaneously?  If  you  can  rest  your  assertion 
on  any  good  basis,  I  will  gladly  meet  your  questions,  but  I  do 
not  accept  such  evidence  as  you  now  introduce,  and  I  do  not 
care  to  argue  for  both  parties." 


••'  It  is  well  that  reference  was  made  to  this  point.     Few  readers  would  probably  notice 
that  Chapter  XXXVI.  begun  a  narcotic  hallucination. — J.  U.  L. 


THE  LAST  CONTICST.  285 

Again  I  was  becoming  irritated,  for  I  was  not  satisfied  with 
the  manner  in  which  I  npheld  my  part  of  the  argnment,  and 
natnrally,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  the  defeated  party,  became 
incensed  at  my  invincible  antagonist. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  criticise  your  credulity.  The  drunkards 
of  the  drunkards'  cavern  were  beyond  all  credence.  I  can  not 
conceive  of  such  abnormal  creations,  even  in  illusion.  Had  I 
met  with  your  experiences  I  would  not  have  supposed,  for  an 
instant,  that  the  fantastic  shapes  could  have  been  aught  than  a 
dream,  or  the  result  of  hallucination,  while,  without  a  question, 
you  considered  them  real." 

"  You  are  certainly  pressed  for  subjects  about  which  to  com- 
plain when  you  resort  to  criticising  the  possibilities  in  creations 
of  a  mind  under  the  influence  of  a  more  powerful  intoxicant 
than  is  known  to  surface  earth,"  he  remarked.  "  However,  I 
will  show  you  that  nature  fashions  animals  in  forms  more 
fantastic  than  I  saw,  and  that  even  these  figures  were  not 
overdrawn" — 

Without  heeding  his  remark,  I  interrupted  his  discourse, 
determined  to  have  my  say : 

"And  I  furthermore  question  the  uncouth  personage  you 
describe  as  your  guide.  Would  you  have  me  believe  that  such  a 
being  has  an  existence  outside  an  abnormal  thought-creation?" 

"Ah,"  he  replied,  "you  have  done  well  to  ask  these  two 
questions  in  succession,  for  you  permit  me  to  answer  both  at 
once.  Listen:  The  Monkey,  of  all  animals,  seems  to  approach 
closest  to  man  in  figure,  the  Siamang  Gibon  of  iVsia,  the  Bald- 
headed  Saki  of  South  America,  with  its  stub  of  a  tail,  being 
nearest.  From  these  types  we  have  great  deviations  as  in  the 
Wanderer  of  India,  with  its  whiskered  face,  and  the  Black 
>SIacaque  of  the  Island  of  Celebes,  with  its  hairy  topknot,  and 
hairless  stub  of  a  tail,  or  the  well-known  Squirrel  Monkey,  with 
its  long  supple  tail,  and  the  Thumbless  Spider  Monkey,  of  South 
America.  Between  these  types  we  have  among  monkeys,  nearly 
every  conceivable  shape  of  limb  and  figure,  and  in  color  of  their 
faces  and  bodies,  all  the  shades  of  the  rainbow. 

"  Some  Squirrels  jump  and  then  sail  through  the  air.  The 
Sloth  can  barely  move  on  the  earth.  Ant-eaters  have  no  teeth  at 
allj  while  the  Grizzlv  Bear  can  crush  a  gun  barrel  with  its  molars. 


286  ETIDORIU'A. 

"The  Duck-billed  Platypus  of  South  Australia  has  the  body 
of  a  mole,  the  tail  of  a  raccoou,  the  flat  bill  of  a  duck,  and  the 
flipper  of  a  seal,  combined  with  the  feet  of  a  rat.  It  lays  eggs 
as  birds  do,  but  suckles  its  young  as  do  other  mammalia.  The 
Opossum  has  a  prehensile  tail,  as  have  some  monkeys,  and  in 
addition  a  living  bag  or  pouch  in  which  the  female  carries  her 
tiny  young.  The  young  of  a  kind  of  tree  frog  of  the  genus 
Hylodes,  breathe  through  a  special  organ  in  their  tails;  the 
young  of  the  Pipa,  a  great  South  American  toad,  burrow  into 
the  skin  of  the  mother,  and  still  another  from  Chili,  as  soon  as 
hatched,  creep  down  the  throat  of  the  father  frog,  and  find  below 
the  jaw  an  opening  into  a  false  membrane  covering  the  entire 
abdomen,  in  which  they  repose  in  safety.  Three  species  of 
frogs  and  toads  have  no  tongue  at  all,  while  in  all  the  others  the 
tongue  is  attached  by  its  tip  to  the  end  of  the  mouth,  and  is  free 
behind.  The  ordinary  Bullfrog  has  conspicuous  great  legs, 
while  a  relative,  the  Coecilia  (and  others  as  well)  have  a  head 
reminding  of  the  frog,  but  neither  tail  nor  legs,  the  body  being 
elongated  as  if  it  were  a  worm.  The  long,  slender  fingers  of  a 
Bat  are  united  by  means  of  a  membrane  that  enables  it  to  fly 
like  a  bird,  wdiile  as  a  contrast,  the  fingers  of  a  INIole,  its  near 
cousin,  are  short  and  stubby,  and  massive  as  compared  W'ith  its 
frame.  The  former  flies  through  the  air,  the  latter  burrows 
(almost  flies)  through  the  earth.  The  Great  Ant-eater  has  a 
curved  head  which  is  drawm  out  into  a  slender  snout,  no  teeth,  a 
long,  slender  tongue,  a  great  bushy  tail,  and  claws  that  neither 
allow  the  creature  to  burrow  in  the  earth  nor  climb  into  trees, 
but  which  are  admirably  adapted  to  tear  an  ant-hill  into  frag- 
ments. Its  close  relatives,  the  Apar  and  Armadillo,  have  a 
round  body  covered  with  bony  plates,  and  a  short,  horny,  curved 
tail,  while  another  relative,  the  Long-tailed  Pangolin,  has  a 
great  alligator-like  tail  which,  together  with  its  body,  is  covered 
with  horny,  overlapping  scales. 

"  The  Greenland  Whale  has  an  enormous  head  occupying  more 
than  one-third  its  length,  no  teeth,  and  a  throat  scarcely  larger 
than  that  of  a  sucker  fish.  The  Golden  Mole  has  a  body  so 
nearly  symmetrical  that,  were  it  not  for  the  snout,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  determine  the  location  of  the  head  without  close 
inspection,  and  it  has  legs  so  short  that,  were  it  not  for  the 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  287 

powerful  claws,  they  would  not  be  observed  at  all.    The  Narwhal 
has  a  straight,  twisted  tusk,  a  " — 

"  Hold,  hold,"  I  interrupted ;  "  do  you  think  that  I  am  con- 
cerned in  these  well  known  contrasts  in  animal  structure?" 

"  Did  you  not  question  the  possibility  of  the  description  I 
gave  of  my  grotesque  drunkards,  and  of  the  form  of  my  subter- 
ranean guide?"  my  guest  retorted. 

"Yes;  but  I  spoke  of  men,  you  describe  animals." 

"  Man  is  an  animal,  and  between  the  various  species  of 
animals  that  you  say  are  well  known,  greater  distinctions  can  be 
drawn  than  between  my  guide  and  surface-earth  man.  Besides, 
had  you  allowed  me  to  proceed  to  a  description  of  animal  life 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth,  I  would  have  shown  you  that 
my  guide  partook  of  their  attributes.  Of  the  creatures  described, 
one  only  was  of  the  intra-earth  origin — the  Mole, — and  like  my 
guide,  it  is  practically  eyeless." 

"Go  on,"  I  said;  "'tis  useless  for  me  to  resist.     And  yet" — 

"And  yet  what?" 

"And  yet  I  have  other  subjects  to  discuss." 

"Proceed." 

"I  do  not  like  the  way  in  which  you  constantly  criticise 
science,  especially  in  referring  thereto  the  responsibilities  of  the 
crazed  anatomist.'^  It  seems  to  me  that  he  was  a  monomaniac, 
gifted,  but  crazed,  and  that  science  was  unfortunate  in  being 
burdened  with  such  an  incubus." 

"  True,  and  yet  science  advances  largely  by  the  work  of  such 
apparently  heartless  creatures.  Were  it  not  for  investigators 
who  overstep  the  bounds  of  established  methods,  and  thus  crit- 
icise their  predecessors,  science  would  rust  and  disintegrate. 
Besides,  why  should  not  science  be  judged  by  the  rule  she  applies 
to  others?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Who  is  more  free  to  criticise  religion  than  the  materialistic 
man  of  science?" 

"  But  a  religious  man  is  not  cruel." 

"Have  you  not  read  history?  Have  you  not  shuddered  at 
the  crimes  recorded  in  the  name  of  the  relictions  of  man?" 


*  This  section  (see  p.  igo'i  was  excised,  being  too  painful.— J.  U.  I^. 


288  ETIDORHPA. 

"  Yes ;  but  these  cruelties  were  committed  by  misguided  men 
under  the  cloak  of  the  church,  or  of  false  religions,  during  the 
dark  ages.  Do  not  blame  religion,  but  the  men  who  abused 
the  cause." 

"Yes,"  he  added,  "you  are  right;  they  were  fanatics,  crazed 
beings,  men;  yes,  even  communities,  raving  mad.  Crazed 
leaders  can  infuse  the  minds  of  the  people  with  their  fallacies, 
and  thus  become  leaders  of  crazed  nations.  Not,  as  I  have 
depicted  in  my  scientific  enthusiast,  one  man  alone  in  the 
privacy  of  his  home  torturing  a  single  child,  but  whole  nations 
pillaging,  burning,  torturing,  and  destroying.  But  this  is  foreign 
to  our  subject.  Beware,  I  reiterate,  of  the  science  of  human 
biology.  The  man  who  enters  the  field  can  not  foresee  the  end, 
the  man  who  studies  the  science  of  life,  and  records  his  experi- 
ments, can  not  know  the  extremes  to  which  a  fanatical  follower 
may  carry  the  thought-current  of  his  leader.  I  have  not  over- 
drawn the  lesson.  Besides,  science  is  now  really  torturing, 
burning,  maiming,  and  destroying  humanity.  The  act  of 
destruction  has  been  transferred  from  barbarians  and  the  fanatic 
in  religion  to  the  follower  of  the  devotees  of  science." 

"  No;  I  say  no." 

"Who  created  the  steam  engine?  Who  evolves  improved 
machinery?  Who  creates  improved  artillery,  and  explosives? 
Scientific  men." 

He  hesitated. 

"  Go  on." 

"Accumulate  the  maimed  and  destroyed  each  year;  add 
together  the  miseries  and  sorrows  that  result  from  the  explo- 
sions, accidents,  and  catastrophes  resulting  from  science 
improvements,  and  the  dark  ages  scarcely  offer  a  parallel.  Add 
thereto  the  fearful  destruction  that  follows  a  war  among  nations 
scientific,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  the  scientific  enthusiast  of  the 
present  has  taken  the  place  of  the  misguided  fanatic  of  the  past. 
Let  us  be  just.  Place  to  the  credit  of  religion  the  good  that 
religion  has  done,  place  to  the  credit  of  science  the  good  that 
science  is  doing,  and  yet  do  not  mistake,  both  leave  in  their 
wake  an  atmosphere  saturated  with  miser\-,  a  road  whitened 
with  humanity's  bones.  Neither  the  young  nor  the  old  are 
spared,  and  so  far  as  the  sufferer  is  concerned  it  matters  not 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  289 

whether  the  person  has  been  racked  by  the  tortnres  of  an  inqui- 
sition, or  the  sword  of  an  infidel,  is  shrieking  in  the  agony  of  a 
scald  by  super-heated  steam,  or  is  mangled  by  an  explosion  of 
nitroglycerin," 

Again  he  hesitated. 

**  Go  on." 

"  One  of  science's  most  serious  responsibilities,  from  which 
religion  has  nearly  escaped,  is  that  of  supplying  thought-food  to 
fanatics,  and  from  this  science  can  not  escape." 

"  Explain  yourself." 

"  Who  places  the  infidel  in  possession  of  arguments  to  com- 
bat sacred  teachings?  Who  deliberately  tortures  animals,  and 
suggests  that  biological  experimentation  in  the  name  of  science^ 
before  cultured  audiences  even,  is  legitimate,  such  as  making 
public  dissections  of  living  creatures?" 

"  Enough,  enough,"  I  cried,  thinking  of  his  crazed  anato- 
mist, and  covering  my  face  with  my  hands;  "you  make  my 
blood  creep." 

" Yes,"  he  added  sarcastically;  "you  shudder  now  and  crit- 
icise my  truthful  study,  and  to-morrow  you  will  forget  the  lesson, 
and  perhaps  for  dinner  you  will  relish  your  dish  of  veal,  the 
favorite  food  of  mothers,  the  nearest  approach  to  the  flesh  of 
babies." 

Then  his  manner  changed,  and  in  his  usual  mild,  pleasant 
wa}',  he  said : 

"  Take  what  I  have  said  kindly ;  I  wish  only  to  induce  your 
religious  part  to  have  more  charity  for  your  scientific  self,  and 
the  reverse.  Both  religion  and  science  are  working  towards  the 
good  of  man,  although  their  devotees  are  human,  and  by  human 
errors  bring  privations,  sufi'erings,  and  sorrows  to  men.  Neither 
can  fill  the  place  of  the  other ;  each  should  extend  a  helping 
hand,  and  have  charity  for  the  shortcomings  of  the  other ;  they 
are  not  antagonists,  but  workers  in  one  field ;  both  must  stand 
the  criticisms  of  mutual  antagonists,  and  both  have  cause  to  fear 
the  evils  of  fanaticism  within  their  own  ranks  more  than  the 
attacks  of  opponents  from  without.  Let  the  religious  enthusiast 
exercise  care ;  his  burning,  earnest  words  may  lead  a  weak- 
minded  father  to  murder  an  innocent  family,  and  yet  't  is  not 
religion  that  commits  the  crime.    Let  the  zealous  scientific  man 


290  ETIDORIITA. 

hesitate;  he  piles  up  fuel  by  which  minds  unbalanced,  or  dis- 
positions perverted,  seek  to  burn  and  destroy  hopes  that  Iiave 
long  served  the  yearnings  of  humanity's  soul.  Neither  pure 
religion  nor  true  science  is  to  blame  for  the  acts  of  its  devo- 
tess,  and  yet  each  must  share  the  responsibility  of  its  human 
agents." 

"We  will  discuss  the  subject  no  further,"  I  said;  "it  is  not 
agreeable." 

Then  I  continued : 

"  The  idea  of  eternity  without  time  is  not  quite  clear  to  me, 
although  I  catch  an  imperfect  conception  of  the  argument 
advanced.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  when  a  soul  leaves  the 
body,  the  earth  life  of  the  individual,  dominated  by  the  soul,  is 
thrown  off  from  it  as  is  the  snap  of  a  whip-lash,  and  that  into 
the  point  between  life  and  death,  the  hereafter  of  that  mortal 
may  be  concentrated?" 

"  I  simply  give  you  the  words  of  my  guide,"  he  replied,  "  but 
vou  have  expressed  the  idea  about  as  well  as  your  word  language 
will  admit.  Such  a  conception  of  eternity  is  more  rational  to 
one  who,  like  myself,  has  lived  through  an  instant  that  covered, 
so  far  as  mind  is  concerned,  a  million  years  of  time,  than  is  an 
attempt  to  grasp  a  conception  of  an  eternity,  without  beginning 
or  end,  by  basing  an  argument  on  conditions  governing  material 
substances,  as  these  substances  are  known  to  man.  You  have 
the  germ  of  the  idea  which  may  be  simply  a  thought  for  you 
to  ponder  over;  you  can  study  the  problem  at  your  leisure. 
Do  not,  however,  I  warn  you,  attempt  to  comprehend  the  notion 
of  eternity  by  throwing  into  it  the  conception  of  time  as  men 
accept  that  term,  for  the  very  word  time,  as  men  define  it, 
demands  that  there  be  both  a  beginning  and  an  end.  With  the 
sense  of  time  in  one's  mind,  there  can  be  no  conception  of  the 
term  eternity." 

Then,  as  I  had  so  often  done  before,  I  unwarily  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  enlarge  on  his  theme,  to  my  disadvantage.  I  had 
determined  not  to  ask  any  questions  concerning  his  replies  to  my 
criticism,  for  whenever  I  had  pre\'iously  done  so,  the  result  had 
been  disastrous  to  me.     In  this  case  I  unwittingly  said : 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  our  language  will  not  permit  of  clearer 
conceptions  than  you  give?" 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  291 

"  Because  your  education  does  not  permit  you  to  think  outside 
of  words;  you  are  word-bound." 

"  You  astonish  me  by  making  such  an  arrogant  assertion.  Do 
you  mean  to  assert  that  I  can  not  think  without  using  words?" 

"  Yes.  Every  thought  you  indulge  in  is  circumscribed.  You 
presumably  attempt  to  throw  a  thought-line  forward,  and  yet 
you  step  backward  and  spin  it  in  words  that  have  been  handed 
you  from  the  past,  and,  struggle  as  you  may,  you  can  not  liberate 
yourself  from  the  dead  incubus.  Attempt  to  originate  an  idea, 
and  see  if  you  can  escape  your  word-master?" 

"Go  on;  I  am  listening." 

"  Men  scientific  think  in  language  scientific.  Men  poetical 
think  in  language  poetic.  All  educated  men  use  words  in  think- 
ing of  their  subjects,  words  that  came  to  them  from  the  past,  and 
enslave  their  intellect.  Thus  it  is  that  the  novelist  can  not 
make  fiction  less  real  than  is  fact;  that  scientists  can  not 
commence  at  the  outside,  and  build  a  theory  back  to  phenomena 
understood.  In  each  case  the  foundation  of  a  thought  is  a  word 
that  in  the  very  beginning  carries  to  the  mind  a  meaning,  a 
something  from  the  past.  Each  thought  ramification  is  an 
offshoot  from  words  that  express  ideas  and  govern  ideas,  yes, 
create  ideas,  even  dominating  the  mind.  Men  speak  of  ideas 
when  they  intend  to  refer  to  an  image  in  the  mind,  but  in  reality 
they  have  no  ideas  outside  of  the  word  sentences  they  uncon- 
sciously reformulate.  Define  the  term  idea  correctly,  and  it  will 
be  shown  that  an  idea  is  a  sentence,  and  if  a  sentence  is  made  of 
words  already  created,  there  can  be  no  new  idea,  for  every  word 
has  a  fixed  meaning.  Hence,  when  men  think,  they  only 
rearrange  words  that  carry  with  themselves  networks  of  ideas, 
and  thus  play  upon  their  several  established  meanings.  How 
can  men  so  circumscribed  construct  a  new  idea  or  teach  a  new 
science?" 

"New  words  are  being  created." 

"  Language  is  slowly  progressing,  but  no  new  word  adds 
itself  to  a  language;  it  is  linked  to  thought-chains  that  precede. 
In  order  to  create  a  word,  as  a  rule,  roots  are  used  that  are  as 
established  in  philology  as  are  building  materials  in  architecture. 
When  a  new  sound  is  thrust  into  a  language,  its  intent  must 
be  introduced  by  words  already  known,  after  which  it  conveys 


292  ETIDORHPA. 

a  meaning  derixcd  from  the  past,  and  becomes  a  part  of  mind 
sentences  already  constrncted,  as  it  does  of  spoken  langnage. 
Language  has  thus  been  painfully  and  slowly  evolved  and  is 
still  being  enlarged,  but  while  new  impressions  may  be  felt  by 
an  educated  person,  the  formulated  feeling  is  inseparable,  from 
well-known  surviving  words." 

"  Some  men  are  dumb." 

"  Yes ;  and  yet  they  frame  mind-impressions  into  unspoken 
words  of  their  own,  otherwise  they  would  be  scarcely  more  than 
animals.  Place  an  uneducated  dumb  person  in  a  room  with  a 
complicated  instrument,  and  although  he  ma>-  comprehend  its 
uses,  he  can  not  do  so  unless  he  frames  sense-impressions  into, 
what  is  to  him,  a  formulated  mind-word  sequence." 

"  But  he  can  think  about  it." 

"  No ;  unless  he  has  already  constructed  previous  impressions 
into  word-meanings  of  his  own,  he  can  not  think  about  it  at  all. 
Words,  whether  spoken  or  unspoken,  underlie  all  ideas.  Try,  if 
you  believe  I  am  mistaken,  try  to  think  of  any  subject  outside 
of  words?" 

I  sat  a  moment,  and  mentally  attempted  the  task,  and  shook 
my  head. 

"Then,"  said  the  old  man,  "how  can  I  use  words  with  estab- 
lished meanings  to  convey  to  your  senses  an  entirely  new 
idea?  If  I  use  new  sounds,  strung  together,  they  are  not  words 
to  you,  and  convey  no  meaning;  if  I  use  words  familiar,  they 
reach  backward  as  well  as  forward.  Thus  it  is  possible  to 
instruct  you,  by  a  laborious  course  of  reasoning,  concerning 
a  phenomenon  that  is  connected  with  phenomena  already 
understood  by  you,  for  your  word-language  can  be  thrust  out 
from  the  parent  stalk,  and  can  thus  follow  the  outreaching 
branches.  However,  in  the  case  of  phenomena  that  exist 
on  other  planes,  or  are  separated  from  any  known  material, 
or  force,  as  is  the  true  conception  that  envelops  the  word 
eternity,  there  being  neither  connecting  materials,  forces,  nor 
words  to  unite  the  outside  with  the  inside,  the  known  with  the 
unknown,  how  can  I  tell  you  more  than  I  have  done?  You  are 
word-bound." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  still  believe  that  I  can  think  outside  of 
words." 


THK  IvAST  CONTEST.  293 

"  Well,  perhaps  after  you  attempt  to  do  so,  and  fail  again  and 
again,  you  will  appreciate  that  a  truth  is  a  truth,  humiliating  as 
it  may  be  to  acknowledge  the  fact." 

"  A  Digger  Indian  has  scarcely  a  word-language,"  I  asserted, 
loth  to  relinquish  the  argument. 

"  You  can  go  farther  back  if  you  desire,  back  to  primitive  man  ; 
man  without  language  at  all,  and  with  ideas  as  circumscribed  as 
those  of  the  brutes,  and  still  }-ou  have  not  strengthened  your 
argument  concerning  civilized  man.     But  you  are  tired,  I  see." 

"Yes;  tired  of  endeavoring  to  combat  your  assertions.  You 
invariably  lead  me  into  the  realms  of  speculation,  and  then 
throw  me  upon  the  defensive  by  asking  me  to  prove  my  own 
theories,  or  with  apparent  sincerity,  you  advance  an  unreasonable 
hypothesis,  and  then,  before  I  am  aware  of  your  purpose,  force 
me  to  acquiesce  because  I  can  not  find  facts  to  confute  you. 
You  very  artfully  throw  the  burden  of  proof  on  me  in  all  cases, 
for  either  by  physical  comparisons  that  I  can  not  make,  I 
must  demonstrate  the  falsity  of  your  metaphysical  assertions, 
or  by  abstract  reasonings  disprove  statements  you  assert  to 
be  facts." 

"You  are  peevish  and  exhausted,  or  you  would  perceive  that 
I  have  generally  allowed  you  to  make  the  issue,  and  more  than 
once  have  endeavored  to  dissuade  you  from  doing  so.  Besides, 
did  I  not  several  times  in  the  past  bring  experimental  proof  to 
dispel  your  incredulity?     Have  I  not  been  Courteous?" 

"Yes,"  I  petulantly  admitted;  "yes." 

Then  I  determined  to  imitate  his  artful  methods,  and  throw 
him  upon  the  defensive  as  often  as  he  had  done  with  me.  I  had 
finally  become  familiar  with  his  process  of  arguing  a  question, 
for,  instead  of  coming  immediately  to  his  subject,  he  invariably 
led  by  circuitous  route  to  the  matter  under  discussion.  Before 
reaching  the  point  he  would  manage  to  commit  me  to  his  own 
side  of  the  subject,  or  place  me  in  a  defenseless  position.  So 
with  covert  aim  I  began  : 

"I  believe  that  friction  is  one  method  of  producing  heat." 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  been  told  that  the  North  American  Indians  make 
fires  by  rubbing  together  two  pieces  of  dry  wood." 

^'True." 


'204  KTIDORIIPA. 

"  I  have  understood  that  the  light  of  a  shooting  star  results 
from  the  lieat  of  friction,  producing  combustion  of  its  particles." 

"  Partly,"  he  answered. 

"  That  when  the  meteoric  fragment  of  space  dust  strikes  the 
air,  the  friction  resulting  from  its  velocity  heats  it  to  redness, 
fuses  its  surface,  or  even  burns  its  very  substance  into  ashes." 

"Yes." 

"I  have  seen  the  spindle  of  a  wheel  charred  by  friction." 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  drawn  a  wire  rapidly  through  a  handkerchief  tightly 
grasped  in  my  hands,  and  have  warmed  the  wire  considerably 
in  doing  so." 

"Yes." 

I  felt  that  I  had  him  committed  to  my  side  of  the  question, 
and  I  prei)ared  to  force  him  to  disprove  the  possibility  of  one 
assertion  that  he  had  made  concerning  his  journey. 

"You  stated  that  you  rode  in  a  boat  on  the  underground  lake."" 

"Yes." 

"  With  great  rapidity  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Rapid  motion  produces  friction,  I  believe?" 

"Yes." 

"And  heat?" 

"Yes." 

"  Why  did  not  your  boat  become  heated  even  to  redness  ?  You 
rode  at  the  rate  of  nine  hundred  miles  an  hour,"  I  cried  exultingly. 

"For  two  reasons,"  he  calmly  replied ;  "  two  natural  causes 
prevented  such  a  catastrophe." 

And  again  he  warned  me,  as  he  had  done  before,  by  saying : 

"While  you  should  not  seek  for  supernatural  agencies  to 
account  for  any  phenomena  in  life,  for  all  that  is  is  natural, 
neither  should  you  fail  to  study  the  differences  that  varying 
conditions  produce  in  results  already  known.  A  miracle  ceases 
to  be  a  miracle  when  we  understand  the  scientific  cause  under- 
Iving  the  wonder;  occultism  is  natural,  for  if  there  be  occult 
phenomena  the>'  must  be  governed  by  natural  law ;  mystery  is 
not  mysterious  if  the  veil  of  ignorance  that  envelops  the  investi- 
gator is  lifted.  What  you  have  said  is  true  concerning  the  heat 
that  results  from  friction,  but — 


THE  LAST  CONTEST.  295 

"  First,  the  attraction  of  gravitation  was  inconsiderable 
where  the  boat,  to  which  you  refer,  rested  on  the  water. 

"  Second,  the  changing  water  carried  away  the  heat  as  fast  as 
it  was  produced.  While  it  is  true  that  a  cannon  ball  becomes 
heated  in  its  motion  through  the  air,  its  surface  is  cooled  when  it 
strikes  a  body  of  water,  notwithstanding  that  its  great  velocity  is 
altogether  overcome  by  the  water.  The  friction  between  the  water 
and  the  iron  does  not  result  in  heated  iron,  but  the  contrary. 
The  water  above  the  rapids  of  a  river  has  j^ractically  the  tem- 
perature of  the  water  below  the  rapids,  regardless  of  the  friction 
that  ensues  between  these  points.  Admit,  however,  that  heat 
is  liberated  as  the  result  of  the  friction  of  solids  with  water, 
and  still  it  does  not  follow  that  this  heat  will  perceptibly  affect 
the  solid.  With  a  boat  each  particle  of  water  carries  the  heat 
away,  each  succeeding  portion  of  water  takes  up  the  heat  liber- 
ated by  that  preceding  it.  Thus  the  great  body  of  water,  over 
which  our  boat  sped,  in  obedience  to  the  ordinary  law,  became 
slightly  warmed,  but  its  effect  upon  the  boat  was  scarcely  percep- 
tible. Your  comparison  of  the  motion  of  a  meteor,  with  that  of 
our  boat,  was  unhappy.  We  moved  rapidly,  it  is  true,  in  compari- 
son with  the  motion  of  vessels  such  as  you  know,  but  comparison 
can  not  be  easily  drawn  between  the  velocity  of  a  boat  and  that  of 
a  meteor.  While  we  moved  at  the  rate  of  many  miles  a  minute, 
a  meteor  moves  many  times  faster,  perhaps  as  many  miles  in  a 
second.  Then  you  must  remember  that  the  force  of  gravitation 
was  so  slight  in  our  position  that" — 

"Enough,"!  interrupted.  "We  will  pass  the  subject.  It 
seems  that  you  draw  upon  science  for  knowledge  to  support  your 
arguments,  however  irrational  they  may  be,  and  then  you  sneer 
at  this  same  method  of  argument  when  I  employ  it." 

He  replied  to  my  peevish  complaint  with  the  utmost  respect 
by  calling  to  my  attention  the  fact  that  my  own  forced  argument 
had  led  to  the  answer,  and  that  he  had  simply  replied  to  mv 
attacks.     Said  he : 

"  If  I  am  wrong  in  my  philosophy,  based  on  your  science 
thought,  I  am  right  in  my  facts,  and  science  thought  is  thus  in 
the  wrong,  for  facts  overbalance  theory.  I  ask  you  only  to  give 
me  the  attention  that  my  statements  merit.  I  am  sincere,  and 
aim    to  serve   your   interests.      Should   investigation    lead    you 


296  ETIDORHPA. 

hereafter  to  infer  that  I  am  in  error,  at  our  final  interview  }ou 
can  have  my  considerate  attention.     Be  more  charitable,  please." 

Then  he  added : 

"Is  there  any  other  subject  you  wish  to  argue?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  and  again  my  combativeness  arose;  "yes. 
One  of  the  truly  edifying  features  of  your  narrative  is  that  of 
the  intelligent  guide,"  and  I  emphasized  the  word  intelligent, 
and  curled  up  my  lip  in  a  sarcastic  manner. 

"  Proceed." 

"He  was  verily  a  wonderful  being;  an  eyeless  creature,  and 
yet  possessed  of  sight  and  perception  beyond  that  of  mortal 
man ;  a  creature  who  had  been  locked  in  the  earth,  and  yet  was 
more  familiar  with  its  surface  than  a  philosopher ;  a  cavern-bred 
monstrosity,  and  yet  possessed  of  the  mind  of  a  sage ;  he  was  a 
scientific  expert,  a  naturalist,  a  metaphysical  reasoner,  a  critic 
of  religion,  and  a  prophet.  He  could  see  in  absolute  darkness 
as  well  as  in  daylight ;  without  a  compass  he  could  guide  a  boat 
over  a  trackless  sea,  and  could  accomplish  feats  that  throw  Gul- 
liver and  Munchausen  into  disrepute." 

In  perfect  composure  my  aged  guest  listened  to  my  cynical, 
and  almost  insulting  tirade.  He  made  no  effort  to  restrain  my 
impetuous  sentences,  and  when  I  had  finished  replied  in  the 
polished  language  of  a  scholarly  gentleman. 

"You  state  truly,  construe  my  words  properly,  as  well  as 
understand  correctly." 

Then  he  continued  musingly,  as  though  speaking  to  himself: 

"  I  would  be  at  fault  and  deserve  censure  did  I  permit  doubts 
to  be  thrown  upon  so  clear  a  subject,  or  discredit  on  so  magnan- 
imous a  person." 

Turning  to  me  he  continued  : 

"  Certainly  I  did  not  intend  to  mislead  or  to  be  misunderstood, 
and  am  pleased  to  find  you  so  earnest  a  scholar." 

And  then  in  his  soft,  mild  manner,  he  commenced  his  detail 
reply,  pouring  oil  upon  the  waters  of  my  troubled  soul,  his  sweet, 
melodious  voice  being  so  in  contrast  to  my  rash  harangue.  He 
began  with  his  expressive  and  often  repeated  word,  "  listen." 

"Listen.  You  are  right,  my  guide  was  a  being  wonderful  to 
mortals.  He  was  eyeless,  but  as  I  have  shown  you  before,  and 
now  swear   to   the    fact,  was   not    sightless;    surely,"   he    said, 


"we  passed  through  caverns  filled  with  creeping 

reptiles." 


run  LAvST  CONTEST.  299 

*'  surely  you  have  not  forgotten  that  long  ago  I  considered  the 
phenomenal  instinct  at  length.  He  predicted  the  future  by 
means  of  his  knowledge  of  the  past — there  is  nothing  wonderful 
in  that.  Can  not  a  civil  engineer  continue  a  line  into  the 
beyond,  and  predict  where  the  projection  of  that  line  will  strike ; 
can  he  not  also  calculate  the  effect  that  a  curve  will  have  on  his 
line's  destiny?  Why  should  a  being  conversant  with  the  lines 
and  curves  of  humanity's  journey  for  ages  past  not  be  able  to 
indicate  the  lines  that  men  must  follow  in  the  future  ?  Of  course 
he  could  guide  the  boat,  in  what  was  to  me  a  trackless  waste  of 
water,  but  you  err  in  asserting  that  I  had  said  he  did  not  have  a 
guide,  even  if  it  were  not  a  compass.  Many  details  concerning 
this  journey  have  not  been  explained  to  you;  indeed,  I  have 
acquainted  you  with  but  little  that  I  experienced.  Near  surface 
earth  we  passed  through  caverns  filled  with  creeping  reptiles ; 
through  others  we  were  surrounded  by  flying  creatures,  neither 
beast  nor  bird ;  we  passed  through  passages  of  ooze  and  laby- 
rinths of  apparently  interminable  intra-earth  structures  ;  to  have 
disported  on  such  features  of  my  journey  would  have  been 
impracticable.  From  time  to  time  I  experienced  strains  of  melody, 
such  as  never  before  had  I  conceived,  seemingly  choruses  of 
angels  were  singing  in  and  to  my  very  soul.  From  empty  space 
about  me,  from  out  the  crevices  beyond  and  behind  me,  from  the 
depths  of  my  spirit  within  me,  came  these  strains  in  notes  clear 
and  distinct,  but  yet  indescribable.  Did  I  fancy,  or  was  it  real? 
I  will  not  pretend  to  say.  Flowers  and  structures  beautiful, 
insects  gorgeous  and  inexplicable  were  spread  before  me.  Fig- 
ures and  forms  I  can  not  attempt  to  indicate  in  word  descriptions, 
ever  and  anon  surrounded,  accompanied,  and  passed  me  by. 
The  canvas  conceptions  of  earth-bred  artists  bring  to  mind  no 
forms  so  strange  and  weird  and  yet  so  beautiful  as  were  these 
compound  beings.  Restful  beyond  description  was  it  to  drink  in 
the  indescribable  strains  of  poetry  of  motion  that  I  appreciated 
in  the  movements  of  fair  creatures  I  have  not  mentioned,  and  it 
was  no  less  soothing  to  experience  the  soul  relief  wrought  by  the 
sounds  about  me,  for  musicians  know  no  notes  so  sweet  and 
entrancing. 

"  There  were  also,  in  side  caverns  to  which  I  was  led,  com- 
binations of  sounds  and  scenes  in  which   floating  strains  and 


300  ETIDORHPA. 

fleeting  figures  were  interwoven  and  interlaced  so  closely  that 
the  senses  of  both  sight  and  hearing  became  blended  into  a 
single  sense,  new,  weird,  strange,  and  inexpressible.  As  flavor 
is  the  combination  of  odor  and  taste,  and  is  neither  taste  nor 
odor,  so  these  sounds  and  scenes  combined  were  neither  scenes 
nor  sounds,  but  a  complex  sensation,  new,  delicious.  Some- 
times I  begged  to  be  permitted  to  stop  and  live  forever  'mid 
those  heavenly  charms,  but  with  as  firm  a  hand  as  when  help- 
ing me  through  the  chambers  of  mire,  ooze,  and  creeping  rep- 
tiles, my  guide  drew  me  onward. 

"  But  to  return  to  the  subject.  As  to  my  guide  being  a  cavern- 
bred  monstrosity,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  said  that  he  was 
cavern-bred,  and  if  I  have  forgotten  a  fact,  I  regret  my  short 
memory.  Did  I  say  that  he  was  always  a  cavern  being.  Did  I 
assert  that  he  had  never  lived  among  mortals  of  upper  earth? 
If  so,  I  do  not  remember  our  conversation  on  that  subject?  He 
was  surely  a  sage  in  knowledge,  as  you  have  experienced  from 
my  feeble  efforts  in  explaining  the  nature  of  phenomena  that 
were  to  you  unknown,  and  yet  have  been  gained  by  me  largely 
through  his  instruction.  He  was  a  metaphysician,  as  you  assert ; 
you  are  surely  right;  he  was  a  sincere,  earnest  reasoner  and 
teacher.  He  was  a  conscientious  student,  and  did  not  by  any 
word  lead  me  to  feel  that  he  did  not  respect  all  religions,  and 
bow  to  the  Creator  of  the  universe,  its  sciences,  and  its  religions. 
His  demeanor  was  most  considerate,  his  methods  faultless,  his 
love  of  nature  deep,  his  patience  inexhaustible,  his  sincerity 
unimpeachable.  Yes,"  the  old  man  said ;  "  you  are  right  in  your 
admiration  of  this  lovely  personage,  and  when  you  come  to  meet 
this  being  as  you  are  destined  yet  to  do — for  know  now  that  }on 
too  will  some  day  pass  from  surface  earth,  and  leave  only  your 
name  in  connection  with  this  story  of  myself — you  will  surely 
then  form  a  still  greater  love  and  a  deeper  respect  for  one  so 
gifted,  and  yet  so  self-sacrificing." 

"  Old  man,"  I  cried,  "you  mock  me.  I  spoke  facetiously,  and 
you  answer  literally.  Know  that  I  have  no  confidence  in  your 
sailor-like  tales,  your  Marco  Polo  history." 

"  Ah !    You  discredit  Marco  Polo  ?    And  why  do  you  doubt  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  never  seen  such  phenomena,  I  have  never 
witnessed  such  occurrences.    I  must  see  a  thing  to  believe  it." 


THK  LAST  CONTEST.  301 

"And  SO  you  believe  only  what  yon  see?"  he  queried. 

u  Yes." 

"Now  answer  promptly,"  he  commanded,  and  his  manner 
changed  as  by  magic  to  that  of  a  master.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
Greenland  ?" 

"No." 

"Iceland?" 

"No." 

"A  geyser?" 

"No." 

"A  whale?" 

"No." 

"England?" 

"No." 

"France?" 

"No." 

"A  walrus?" 

"No." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  that  these  conditions,  countries, 
and  animals  have  an  existence?" 

"  Of  course  they  have." 

"Why?" 

"  Others  have  seen  them." 

"  Ah,"  he  said ;  "  then  you  wish  to  modify  your  assertion — • 
you  only  believe  what  others  have  seen?" 

"  Excepting  one  person,"  I  retorted. 

Then  he  continued,  seemingly  not  having  noticed  my  per- 
sonal allusion : 

"Have  you  ever  seen  your  heart?" 

I  hesitated. 

"Answer,"  he  commanded. 

"No." 

"Your  stomach?" 

"No." 

"Have  you  seen  the  stomach  of  any  of  your  friends?" 

"No." 

"The  back  of  your  head?" 

I  became  irritated,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Answer,"  he  again  commanded. 


302  RTIDORIIPA. 

"I  have  seen  its  reflection  in  a  glass." 

"I  say  no,"  he  repHed ;  "yon  have  not." 

"You  are  impudent,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said,  good  humoredh' ;  "  how  easy  it  is  to 
make  a  mistake.  I  venture  to  say  that  you  have  never  seen  the 
reflection  of  the  back  of  your  head  in  a  mirror." 

"Your  presumption  astounds  me." 

"I  will  leave  it  to  yourself." 

He  took  a  hand-glass  from  the  table  and  held  it  behind  my 
head. 

"Now,  do  you  see  the  reflection?" 

"  No  ;  the  glass  is  behind  me." 

"Ah,  yes;  and  so  is  the  back  of  your  head." 

"Look,"  I  said,  pointing  to  the  great  mirror  on  the  bureau-, 
"look,  there  is  the  reflection  of  the  back  of  my  head." 

"No;  it  is  the  reflection  of  the  reflection  in  my  hand-glass." 

"You  have  tricked  me;  you  qiiibble  !" 

"  Well,"  he  said,  ignoring  my  remark ;  "  what  do  you  believe  ?" 

"I  believe  what  others  have  seen,  and  what  I  can  do." 

"Excluding  myself  as  to  what  others  have  seen,"  he  said 
facetiously. 

"Perhaps,"  I  answered,  relenting  somewhat. 

"  Has  any  man  of  your  acquaintance  seen  the  middle  of 
Africa?" 

"No." 

"The  center  of  the  earth?" 

"No." 

"The  opposite  side  of  the  moon?" 

"No." 

"The  soul  of  man?" 

"No." 

"Heat,  light,  electricity?" 

"No." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  that  Africa  has  a  midland,  the  earth  a 
center,  the  moon  an  opposite  side,  man  a  soul,  force  an  existence  ?" 

"  You  distort  my  meaning." 

"  Well,  I  ask  questions  in  accord  with  your  suggestions,  and 
you  defeat  yourself.  You  have  now  only  one  point  left.  You 
believe  only  what  you  can  do?" 


"flowers  and  structures  beautifui.,  insects  gorgeous.' 


THE  I-vAST  CONTEST.  305 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  rest  this  case  on  one  statement,  then,  and  you  may  be 
the  judge." 

"Agreed." 

*'  You  can  not  do  what  any  child  in  Cincinnati  can  accom- 
plish. I  assert  that  any  other  man,  any  other  woman  in  the  city 
can  do  more  than  you  can.  No  cripple  is  so  helpless,  no  invalid 
so  feeble  as  not,  in  this  respect,  to  be  your  superior." 

"You  insult  me,"  I  again  retorted,  almost  viciously. 

"Do  you  dispute  the  assertion  seriously?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  let  me  see  you  kiss  your  elbow." 

Involuntarily  I  twisted  my  arm  so  as  to  bring  the  elbow 
towards  my  mouth,  then,  as  I  caught  the  full  force  of  his  mean- 
ing, the  ridiculous  result  of  my  passionate  wager  came  over  me, 
and  I  laughed  aloud.  It  was  a  change  of  thought  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ludicrous. 

The  white-haired  guest  smiled  in  return,  and  kindly  said : 

"  It  pleases  me  to  find  you  in  good  humor  at  last.  I  will 
return  to-morrow  evening  and  resume  the  reading  of  my  manu- 
script. In  the  meantime  take  good  exercise,  eat  heartily,  and 
become  more  cheerful." 

He  rose  and  bowed  himself  out. 


THE   OLD    MAN    CONTINUES    HIS    MANUSCRIPT. 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE  FATHOMLESS  ABYSS. — THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EARTH  SHELL. 

Promptly  at  eight  o'clock  the  next  evening  the  old  man 
entered  my  room.  He  did  not  allude  to  the  occurrences  of  the 
previous  evening,  and  for  this  considerate  treatment  I  felt  thank- 
ful, as  my  part  in  those  episodes  had  not  been  enviable.  He 
placed  his  hat  on  the  table,  and  in  his  usual  cool  and  deliberate 
manner,  commenced  reading  as  follows : 

For  a  long  time  thereafter  we  journeyed  on  in  silence,  now 
amid  stately  stone  pillars,  then  through  great  cliff  openings  or 
among  gigantic  formations  that  often  stretched  away  like  cities  or 
towns  dotted  over  a  plain,  to  vanish  in  the  distance.  Then  the 
scene  changed,  and  we  traversed  magnificent  avenues,  bounded 
by  solid  walls  which  expanded  into  lofty  caverns  of  illimitable 
extent,  from  whence  we  found  ourselves  creeping  through  narrow 
crevices  and  threading  winding  passages  barely  sufficient  to 
admit  our  bodies.  For  a  considerable  period  I  had  noted  the 
absence  of  water,  and  as  we  passed  from  grotto  to  temple  reared 
without  hands,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  could  not  now  obser\'e 
evidence  of  water  erosion  in  the  stony  surface  over  which  we 
trod,  and  which  had  been  so  abundant  before  we  reached  the 
lake.  My  guide  explained  by  saying  in  reply  to  my  thought 
question,  that  we  were  beneath  the  water  line.  He  said  that 
liquids  were  impelled  back  towards  the  earth's  surface  from  a 
point  unnoticed  by  me,  but  long  since  passed.  Neither  did  I 
now  experience  hunger  nor  thirst,  in  the  slightest  degree,  a 
circumstance  which  my  guide  assured  me  was  perfectly  natural 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  there  was  neither  waste  of  tissue  nor 
consumption  of  heat  in  my  present  organism. 


Pi- 


¥Wis.i^f'^-9f 


"with   fear   and   trembling    I   CREPT   ON   MY   KNEES   TO    HIS 

SIDE." 


THE  FATHOMLRvSS  ABYSS.  309 

At  last  I  observed  far  in  the  distance  a  slanting  sheet  of  lig-ht 
that,  fan-shaped,  stood  as  a  barrier  across  the  way;  beyond  it 
neither  earth  nor  earth's  surface  appeared.  As  we  approached, 
the  distinctness  of  its  outline  disappeared,  and  when  we  came 
nearer,  I  found  that  it  streamed  into  the  space  above,  from  what 
appeared  to  be  a  crevice  or  break  in  the  earth  that  stretched 
across  our  pathway,  and  was  apparently  limitless  and  bottomless. 

"Is  this  another  hallucination?"  I  queried. 

"  No;  it  is  a  reality.     Let  us  advance  to  the  brink." 

Slowly  we  pursued  our  way,  for  I  hesitated  and  held  back.  I 
had  really  begun  to  distrust  my  own  senses,  and  my  guide  in  the 
lead  was  even  forced  to  demonstrate  the  feasibility  of  the  way, 
step  by  step,  before  I  could  be  induced  to  follow.  At  length  we 
neared  the  edge  of  the  chasm,  and  while  he  stood  boldly  upright 
by  the  brink,  with  fear  and  trembling  I  crept  on  my  knees  to  his 
side,  and  together  we  faced  a  magnificent  but  fearful  void  that 
stretched  beneath  and  beyond  us,  into  a  profundity  of  space.  I 
peered  into  the  chamber  of  light,  that  indescribable  gulf  of 
brilliancy,  but  vainly  sought  for  an  opposite  wall ;  there  was 
none.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  vacancy,  illuminated 
vacancy,  greeted  my  vision.  The  light  that  sprung  from  that 
void  was  not  dazzling,  but  was  possessed  of  a  beauty  that  no 
words  can  suggest.  I  peered  downward,  and  found  that  we 
stood  upon  the  edge  of  a  shelving  ledge  of  stone  that  receded 
rapidly  beneath  us,  so  that  we  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  upper 
side  of  its  wedge-like  edge.  I  strained  my  vision  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  bottom  of  this  chasm,  but  although  I  realized 
that  my  eyes  were  glancing  into  miles  and  miles  of  space,  there 
was  no  evidence  of  earthly  material  other  than  the  brink  upon 
which  we  stood. 

The  limit  of  vision  seemed  to  be  bounded  by  a  silvery  blend- 
ing of  light  with  light,  light  alone,  only  light.  The  dead  silence 
about,  and  the  new  light  before  me,  combined  to  produce  a  weird 
sensation,  inexplicable,  overpowering.  A  speck  of  dust  on  the 
edge  of  immensity,  I  clung  to  the  stone  cliif,  gazing  into  the 
depths  of  that  immeasurable  void. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

MY    HEART    THROB    IS    STILLED,  AND   YET    I    LIVE. 

*'  It  now  becomes  my  duty  to  inform  you  that  this  is  one  of 
the  stages  in  our  journey  that  can  only  be  passed  by  the  exercise 
of  the  greatest  will  force.  Owing  to  our  former  surroundings 
upon  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  to  your  inheritance  of  a  so- 
called  instinctive  education,  you  would  naturally  suppose  that 
we  are  now  on  the  brink  of  an  impassable  chasm.  This  sphere 
of  material  vacuity  extends  beneath  us  to  a  depth  that  I  am 
sure  you  will  be  astonished  to  learn  is  over  six  thousand  miles. 
We  may  now  look  straight  into  the  earth  cavity,  and  this  stream- 
ing light  is  the  reflected  purity  of  the  space  below.  The  opposite 
side  of  this  crevice,  out  of  sight  by  reason  of  its  distance,  but 
horizontally  across  from  where  we  stand,  is  precipitous  and  com- 
paratively solid,  extendiug  upward  to  the  material  that  forms  the 
earth's  surface.  We  have,  during  our  journey,  traversed  an 
oblique,  tortuous  natural  passage,  that  extends  from  the  spot  at 
which  you  entered  the  cave  in  Kentucky,  diagonally  down  into 
the  crust  of  the  globe,  terminating  in  this  shelving  bluff.  I  would 
recall  to  your  mind  that  your  journey  up  to  this  time  has  been  of 
your  own  free  will  and  accord.  At  each  period  of  vacillation — 
and  you  could  not  help  but  waver  occasionally — you  have  been  at 
liberty  to  return  to  surface  earth  again,  but  each  time  you  decided 
wisely  to  continue  your  course.  You  can  now  return  if  )our  cour- 
age is  not  sufficient  to  overcome  your  fear,  but  this  is  the  last 
opportunity  you  will  have  to  reconsider,  while  in  my  company.'" 

"  Have  others  overcome  the  instinctive  terrors  to  which  }-ou 
allude?" 

"  Yes ;  but  usually  the  dread  of  death,  or  an  unbearable  uncer- 
tainty, compels  the  traveler  to  give  up  in  despair  before  reaching 
this  spot,  and  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime  is  lost.  Yes;  an 
opportunity  that  occurs  only  in  the  lifetime  of  one  person  out 
of  millions,  of  but  few  in  our  brotherhood." 

310 


MY  HEART  THROB   IS  STH^LEU.  311 

*'Then  I  can  return  if  I  so  elect?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Will  you  inform  me  concerning  the  nature  of  the  obstacle  I 
"have  to  overcome,  that  you  indicate  by  your  vague  references?" 

"We  must  descend  from  this  cliff." 

"  You  can  not  be  in  earnest." 

"Why?" 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  the  stone  recedes  from  beneath  us, 
that  we  stand  on  the  edge  of  a  wedge  overhanging  bottomless 
space?" 

"  That  I  understand." 

"There  is  no  ladder,"  and  then  the  foolish  remark  abashed 
me  as  I  thought  of  a  ladder  six  thousand  miles  in  length. 

"  Go  on." 

He  made  no  reference  to  my  confusion. 

"  There  is  practically  no  bottom,"  I  asserted,  "  if  I  can 
believe  your  words;  you  told  me  so." 

"  And  that  I  reiterate." 

"The  feat  is  impracticable,  impossible,  and  only  a  madman 
would  think  of  trying  to  descend  into  such  a  depth  of  space," 

Then  an  idea  came  over  me ;  perhaps  there  existed  a  route  at 
some  other  point  of  the  earth's  crevice  by  which  we  could  reach 
the  under  side  of  the  stone  shelf,  and  I  intimated  as  much  to  the 
guide. 

"No;  we  must  descend  from  this  point,  for  it  is  the  only 
entrance  to  the  hollow  beneath." 

We  withdrew  from  the  brink,  and  I  meditated  in  silence. 
Then  I  crept  again  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  and  lying  flat  on  my 
chest,  craned  my  head  over,  and  peered  down  into  the  luminous 
gulf.  The  texture  of  the  receding  mineral  was  distinctly  visible 
for  a  considerable  distance,  and  then  far,  far  beneath  all  sem- 
blance to  material  form  disappeared — as  the  hull  of  a  vessel 
fades  in  deep,  clear  water.  As  I  gazed  into  the  gulf  it  seemed 
evident  that,  as  a  board  floating  in  water  is  bounded  by  water, 
this  rock  really  ended.    I  turned  to  my  guide  and  questioned  him. 

"  Stone  in  this  situation  is  as  cork,"  he  replied ;  "  it  is  nearly 
devoid  of  weight;  your  surmise  is  correct.  We  stand  on  the 
shelving  edge  of  a  cliff"  of  earthly  matter,  that  in  this  spot  slants 
upward  from  beneath  like  the  bow  of  a  boat.     We  have  reached 


312  ETIDORHPA. 

the  bottom  of  the  fihn  of  space  dust  on  the  bubble  of  energy 
that  forms  the  skeleton  of  earth." 

I  clutched  the  edge  of  the  cliff  with  both  hands, 

"  Be  not  frightened ;  have  I  not  told  you  that  if  you  wish  to 
return  you  can  do  so.     Now  hearken  to  me: 

"  A  short  time  ago  you  endeavored  to  convince  me  that  we 
could  not  descend  from  this  precipice,  and  you  are  aware  that 
your  arguments  were  without  foundation.  You  drew  upon  your 
knowledge  of  earth  materials,  as  you  once  learned  them,  and 
realized  at  the  time  that  you  deluded  yourself  in  doing  so,  for 
you  know  that  present  conditions  are  not  such  as  exist  above 
ground.  You  are  now  influenced  by  surroundings  that  are 
entirely  different  from  those  that  govern  the  lives  of  men  upon 
the  earth's  surface.  You  are  almost  without  weight.  You  have 
nearly  ceased  to  breathe,  as  long  since  you  discovered,  and  soon 
I  hope  will  agree  entirely  to  suspend  that  harsh  and  wearying^ 
movement.  Your  heart  scarcely  pulsates,  and  if  you  go  with 
me  farther  in  this  journey,  will  soon  cease  to  beat." 

I  started  up  and  turned  to  flee,  but  he  grasped  and  held  me 
firmly. 

"Would  you  murder  me?  Do  you  think  I  will  mutely  acqui- 
esce, while  you  coolly  inform  me  of  your  inhuman  intent,  and 
gloat  over  the  fact  that  my  heart  will  soon  be  as  stone,  and  that 
I  will  be  a  corpse?"  He  attempted  to  break  in,  but  I  proceeded 
in  frenzy.  "I  will  return  to  upper  earth,  to  sunshine  and 
humanity.  I  ivill  retreat  while  yet  in  health  and  strength,  and 
although  I  have  in  apparent  willingness  accompanied  you  to  this 
point,  learn  now  that  at  all  times  I  have  been  possessed  of  the 
means  to  defend  myself  from  personal  violence."  I  drew  from 
my  pocket  the  bar  of  iron.  "See,  this  I  secreted  about  my 
person  in  the  fresh  air  of  upper  earth,  the  sweet  sunshine  of 
heaven,  fearing  that  I  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  men  with 
whom  I  must  combat.     Back,  back,"  I  cried. 

He  released  his  hold  of  my  person,  and  folded  his  arms  upon 
his  breast,  then  quietly  faced  me,  standing  directly  between 
myself  and  the  passage  we  had  trod,  while  I  stood  on  the  brink, 
my  back  to  that  fearful  chasm. 

By  a  single  push  he  could  thrust  me  into  the  fathomless  gulf 
below,  and  with  the  realization  of  that  fact,  I  felt  that  it  was  now  a 


MY  HEART  THROB  IS  STILLED.  313 

life  and  death  struggle.  With  every  muscle  strained  to  its  utmost 
tension,  with  my  soul  on  fire,  my  brain  frenzied,  I  drew  back  the 
bar  of  iron  to  smite  the  apparently  defenseless  being  in  the  fore- 
head, but  he  moved  not,  and  as  I  made  the  motion,  he  calmly 
remarked:  "Do  you  remember  the  history  of  Hiram  Abiff?" 


"I   DREW   BACK  THE   BAR  OF  IRON  TO  SMITE  THE  APPARENTI^Y  DEFENSELESS 
BEING   IN   THE    FOREHEAD." 

The  hand  that  held  the  weapon  dropped  as  if  stricken  by 
paralysis,  and  a  flood  of  recollections  concerning  my  lost  home 
overcame  me.  I  had  raised  my  hand  against  a  brother,  the  only 
being  of  my  kind  who  could  aid  me,  or  assist  me  either  to  advance 
or  recede.  How  could  I,  unaided,  recross  that  glassy  lake,  and 
pass  through  the  grotesque  forests  of  fungi  and  the  labyrinth  of 
crystal  grottoes  of  the  salt  bed  ?  How  could  I  find  my  way  in 
the  utter  darkness  that  existed  in  the  damp,  soppy,  dripping 
upper  caverns  that  I  must  retrace  before  I  could  hope  to  reach 
the  surface  of  the  earth?  "Forgive  me,"  I  sobbed,  and  sunk  at 
his  feet.    "  Forgive  me,  my  friend,  my  brother;  I  have  been  wild. 


314  ETIDORHPA. 

mad,  am  crazed."  He  made  no  reply,  but  pointed  over  my 
shoulder  into  the  space  beyond. 

I  turned,  and  in  the  direction  indicated,  saw,  in  amazement, 
floating  in  the  distant  space  a  snow-  and  ice-clad  vessel  in  full 
sail.  She  was  headed  diagonally  from  us,  and  was  moving  rap- 
idly across  the  field  of  vision  Ever}'  spar  and  sail  was  clearh- 
defined,  and  on  her  deck,  and  in  the  rigging  I  beheld  sailors 
clad  in  winter  garments  pursuing  their  various  duties. 

As  I  gazed,  enraptured,  she  disappeared  in  the  distance. 

"A  phantom  vessel,"  I  murmured. 

"No,"  he  replied;  "  the  abstraction  of  a  vessel  sailing  on  the 
ocean  above  us.  Every  object  on  earth  is  the  second  to  an 
imprint  in  another  place.  There  is  an  apparent  reproduction  of 
matter  in  so-called  vacancy,  and  on  unseen  pages  a  recording  of 
all  events.  As  that  ship  sailed  over  the  ocean  above  us,  she 
disturbed  a  current  of  energy,  and  it  left  its  impress  as  an  out- 
line on  a  certain  zone  beneath,  which  is  parallel  with  that  upon 
which  we  now  chance  to  stand." 

"  I  can  not  comprehend,"  I  muttered. 

"No,"  he  answered;  "to  you  it  seems  miraculous,  as  to  all 
men  an  unexplained  phenomenon  approaches  the  supernatural. 
All  that  is  is  natural.  Have  men  not  been  told  in  sacred  writings 
that  their  every  movement  is  being  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Life, 
and  do  they  not  often  doubt  because  they  can  not  grasp  the 
problem?  May  not  the  greatest  scientist  be  the  most  apt 
skeptic?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  You  have  just  seen,"  he  said,  "  the  record  of  an  act  on 
earth,  and  in  detail  it  is  being  printed  elsewhere  in  the  Book  of 
Eternity.  If  you  should  return  to  earth's  surface  you  could  not 
by  stating  these  facts  convince  even  the  persons  on  that  same 
ship,  of  your  sanity.  You  could  not  make  them  believe  that 
hundreds  of  miles  beneath,  both  their  vessel  and  its  crew  had 
been  reproduced  in  fac  simile,  could  von?" 

"No." 

"  Were  you  to  return  to  earth  you  could  not  con\incc  men 
that  you  had  existed  without  breath,  with  a  heart  dead  within 
you.  If  you  should  try  to  impress  on  mankind  the  facts  that 
you  have  learned  in  this  journey,  what  would  be  the  result?" 


MY  HEART  THROB  IS   STILLED. 


315 


"  I  would  probably 
be  considered  mentally 
deranged;  this  I  have 
before  admitted." 

"Would  it  not  be 
better  then,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  to  go  with  me, 
by  your  own  free  will, 
into  the  unknown  future, 
which  you  need  fear  less 
than  a  return  to  the 
scoffing  multitude  amid 
the  storms  of  upper 
earth?  You  know  that 
I  have  not  at  any  time 
deceived  you.  I  have,  as 
yet,  only  opened  before 
you  a  part  of  one  rare 
page  out  of  the  bound- 
less book  of  nature  ;  you 
have  tasted  of  the  sweets 
of  which  few  persons  in 
the  flesh  have  sipped, 
and  I  now  promise  you 
a  further  store  of  knowl- 
edge that  is  rich  beyond 
conception,  if  you  wish  to 
continue  your  journey." 

"  What  if  I  decide  to 
return?" 

"I  will  retrace  my 
footsteps  and  liberate 
you  upon  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  as  I  have 
others,  for  few  persons 
have  courage  enough  to 
pass  this  spot." 

"Binding  me  to  an  oath  of  secrecy?" 


sprun'g  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff  ixto 
The  abyss  below,  carrying  me  with  him 
into  its  depths." 


316  ETIDORHPA. 

"No,"  he  answered ;  "for  if  you  relate  these  events  men  will 
consider  you  a  madman,  and  the  more  clearly  you  attempt  to 
explain  the  facts  that  you  have  witnessed,  the  less  they  will 
listen  to  you ;  such  has  been  the  fate  of  others." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  better  for  me  to  go  with  you,"  I  said  musingly ; 
"  to  that  effect  my  mind  is  now  made  up,  my  course  is  clear,  I 
am  ready." 

With  a  motion  so  quick  in  conception,  and  rapid  in  execu- 
tion that  I  was  taken  altogether  by  surprise,  with  a  grasp  so 
powerful  that  I  could  not  have  repelled  him,  had  I  expected  the 
movement  and  tried  to  protect  myself,  the  strange  man,  or 
being  beside  me,  threw  his  arms  around  my  body.  Then,  as  a 
part  of  the  same  movement,  he  raised  me  bodily  from  the  stone, 
and  before  I  could  realize  the  nature  of  his  intention,  sprung 
from  the  edge  of  the  cliff  into  the  abyss  below,  carrying  me  with 
him  into  its  depths. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE   INNER    CIRCLE,    OR    THE    END    OF    GRAVITATION. — IN   THE 
BOTTOMLESS   GULF. 

I  recall  a  whirling  sensation,  and  an  involnntary  attempt  at 
self-preservation,  in  which  I  threw  my  arms  wildly  about  with 
a  vain  endeavor  to  clutch  some  form  of  solid  body,  which 
movement  naturally  ended  by  a  tight  clasping  of  my  guide 
in  my  arms,  and  locked  together  we  continued  to  speed  down 
into  the  seven  thousand  miles  of  vacancy.  Instinctively  I 
murmured  a  prayer  of  supplication,  and  awaited  the  approach- 
ing hereafter,  which,  as  I  believed,  would  quickly  witness  the 
extinction  of  my  unhappy  life,  the  end  of  my  material  exist- 
ence ;  but  the  moments  (if  time  can  be  so  divided  when  no 
sun  marks  the  division)  nniltiplied  without  bodily  shock  or 
physical  pain  of  any  description ;  I  retained  my  consciousness. 

"  Open  your  eyes,"  said  my  guide,  "  you  have  no  cause  for 
fear." 

I  acquiesced  in  an  incredulous,  dazed  manner. 

"This  unusual  experience  is  sufficient  to  unnerve  you,  but 
you  need  have  no  fear,  for  you  are  not  in  corporal  danger,  and 
can  relax  your  grasp  on  my  person." 

I  cautiously  obeyed  him,  misgivingly,  and  slowly  loosened 
my  hold,  then  gazed  about  to  find  that  we  were  in  a  sea  of  light, 
and  that  only  light  was  \'isible,  that  form  of  light  which  I  have 
before  said  is  an  entity  without  source  of  radiation.  In  one 
direction,  however,  a  great  gray  cloud  hung  suspended  and 
gloomy,  dark  in  the  center,  and  shading  therefrom  in  a  circle, 
to  disappear  entirely  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees. 

"  This  is  the  earth-shelf  from  which  we  sprung,"  said  the 
guide;  "it  will  soon  disappear." 

Wherever  I  glanced  this  radiant  exhalation,  a  peaceful, 
luminous  envelope,  this  rich,  soft,  beautiful  white  light  appeared. 
The  power  of  bodily  motion  I  found  still  a  factor  in  my  frame. 


318  ETIDORHI'A. 

obedient,  as  before,  to  my  will.  I  could  move  my  limbs  freely, 
and  my  intellect  seemed  to  be  intact.  Finally  I  became 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  I  must  be  at  perfect  rest,  but  if  so 
what  could  be  the  nature  of  the  substance,  or  material,  upon 
which  I  was  restin^^  so  complacently?  No;  this  could  not  be 
true.  Then  I  thought :  "  I  have  been  instantly  killed  by  a  pain- 
less shock,  and  my  spirit  is  in  heaven ;"  but  my  earthly  body 
and  coarse,  ragged  garments  were  palpable  realities ;  the  sense  of 
touch,  sight,  and  hearing  surely  were  normal,  and  a  consideration 
of  these  facts  dispelled  my  first  conception. 

"Where  are  we  now?" 

"  Moving  into  earth's  central  space." 

"  I  comprehend  that  a  rushing  wind  surrounds  us  which  is  not 
uncomfortable,  but  otherwise  I  experience  no  unusual  sensation, 
and  can  not  realize  but  that  I  am  at  rest." 

"  The  sensation,  as  of  a  blowing  wind  is  in  consequence  of 
our  rapid  motion,  and  results  from  the  friction  between  our  bodies 
and  the  quiescent,  attenuated  atmosphere  which  exists  even  here, 
but  this  atmosphere  becomes  less  and  less  in  amount  until  it 
will  disappear  altogether  at  a  short  distance  below  us.  Soon 
we  will  be  in  a  perfect  calm,  and  although  moving  rapidly,  to  all 
appearances  will  be  at  absolute  rest." 

Naturally,  perhaps,  my  mind  attempted,  as  it  so  often  had 
done,  to  urge  objections  to  his  statements,  and  at  first  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  did  not  experience  the  peculiar  sinking  away  sen- 
sation in  the  chest  that  I  remembered  follows,  on  earth,  the 
downward  motion  of  a  person  falling  from  a  great  height,  or 
moving  rapidly  in  a  swing,  and  I  questioned  him  on  the  absence 
of  that  phenomenon. 

"  The  explanation  is  simple,"  he  said ;  "  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth  a  sudden  motion,  either  upward  or  downward,  distiirbs  the 
equilibrium  of  the  organs  of  respiration,  and  of  the  heart,  and 
interferes  with  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  This  produces  a 
change  in  blood  pressure  within  the  brain,  and  the 'sinking' 
sensation  in  the  chest,  or  the  dizziness  of  the  head  of  a  person 
moving  rapidly,  or  it  may  even  result  in  unconsciousness,  and 
complete  suspension  of  respiration,  effects  which  sometimes  fol- 
low rapid  movements,  as  in  a  person  falling  from  a  considerable 
height.     Here  circumstances  are  entirely  different.    The  heart  is 


THE  INNER  CIRCLE.  319 

quiet,  the  lungs  in  a  comatose  condition,  and  the  blood  stagnant. 
]\Iental  sensations,  therefore,  that  result  from  a  disturbed  condi- 
tion of  these  organs  are  wanting,  and,  although  we  are  experi- 
encing rapid  motion,  we  are  in  the  full  possession  of  our  physical 
selves,  and  maintain  our  mental  faculties  unimpaired." 

Again  I  interposed  an  objection : 
'  "If,  as  you  say,  we  are  really  passing  through  an  attenuated 
atmosphere  with  increasing  velocity,  according  to  the  law  that 
governs  falling  bodies  that  are  acted  upon  by  gravity  which 
continually  accelerates  their  motion,  the  friction  between  our- 
selves and  the  air  will  ultimately  become  so  intense  as  to  wear 
away  our  bodies." 

"  Upon  the  contrary,"  said  he,  "  this  attenuated  atmosphere 
is  decreasing  in  density  more  rapidly  than  our  velocity  increases, 
and  before  long  it  will  have  altogether  disappeared.  You  can 
perceive  that  the  wind,  as  you  call  it,  is  blowing  less  violently 
than  formerly;  soon  it  will  entirely  cease,  as  I  have  already 
predicted,  and  at  that  period,  regardless  of  our  motion,  we  will 
appear  to  be  stationary." 

Pondering  over  the  final  result  of  this  strange  experience  I 
became  again  alarmed,  for  accepting  the  facts  to  be  as  he  stated, 
such  motion  would  ultimately  carry  us  against  the  opposite 
crust  of  the  earth,  and  without  a  doubt  the  shock  would  end  our 
existence.  I  inquired  about  this,  to  me,  self-evident  fact,  and  he 
replied : 

"  Long  before  we  reach  the  opposite  crust  of  the  earth,  our 
motion  will  be  arrested." 

I  had  begun  now  to  feel  a  self-confidence  that  is  surprising 
as  I  recall  that  remarkable  position  in  connection  with  my 
narrow  experience  in  true  science,  and  can  say  that  instead 
of  despondency,  I  really  enjo3'ed  an  elated  sensation,  a  curious 
exhilaration,  a  feeling  of  delight,  which  I  have  no  words  to 
describe.  Life  disturbances  and  mental  worry  seemed  to  have 
completely  vanished,  and  it  appeared  as  if,  with  mental  percep- 
tion lucid,  I  were  under  the  influence  of  a  powerful  soporific ; 
the  cares  of  mortals  had  disappeared.  After  a  while  the  wind 
ceased  to  blow,  as  my  guide  had  predicted,  and  with  the  sus- 
pension of  that  factor,  all  that  remained  to  remind  me  of  earth 
phenomena  had  vanished.     There  was  no  motjion  of  material, 


320  ETIDORHPA. 

nothing  to  mar  or  disturb  the  most  perfect  peace  imaginable ;  I 
was  so  exquisitely  happy  that  I  now  actually  feared  some  change 
might  occur  to  interrupt  that  quiescent  existence.  It  was  as  a 
deep,  sweet  sleep  in  which,  with  faculties  alive,  unconsciousness 
was  self-conscious,  peaceful,  restful,  blissful.  I  listlessly  turned 
my  eyes,  searching  space  in  all  directions — to  meet  vacancy 
everywhere,  absolute  vacancy.  I  took  from  my  pocket  (into 
which  I  had  hastily  thrust  it)  the  bar  of  iron,  and  released  it ; 
the  metal  remained  motionless  beside  me. 

"Traveling  through  this  expanse  with  the  rapidity  of  our- 
selves," said  my  guide. 

I  closed  my  eyes  and  endeavored  to  convince  myself  that  I  was 
dreaming — vainly,  however.  I  opened  my  eyes,  and  endeavored 
to  convince  myself  that  I  was  moving,  equally  in  vain.  I 
became  oblivious  to  everything  save  the  delicious  sensation  of 
absolute  rest  that  enveloped  and  pervaded  my  being. 

"  I  am  neither  alive  nor  dead,"  I  murmured ;  "  neither  asleep 
nor  awake ;  neither  moving  nor  at  rest,  and  neither  standing, 
reclining,  nor  sitting.  If  I  exist  I  can  not  bring  evidence  to 
prove  that  fact,  neither  can  I  prove  that  I  am  dead." 

"Can  any  man  prove  either  of  these  premises?"  said  the 
guide. 

"  I  have  never  questioned  the  matter,"  said  I ;  "  it  is  a  self- 
evident  fact." 

"  Know  then,"  said  he,  "  that  existence  is  a  theory,  and  that 
man  is  incapable  of  demonstrating  that  he  has  a  being.  All  evi- 
dences of  mortal  life  are  only  as  the  phantasms  of  hallucination. 
As  a  moment  in  dreamland  may  span  a  life  of  time,  the  dreamer 
altogether  unconscious  that  it  is  a  dream,  so  may  life  itself  be  a 
shadow,  the  vision  of  a  distempered  fancy,  the  illusion  of  a 
floating  thought." 

"  Are  pain,  pleasure,  and  living,  imaginary  creations?"  I  asked 
facetiously. 

"Is  there  a  madman  who  does  not  imagine,  as  facts,  what 
others  agree  upon  as  hallucinations  peculiar  to  himself?  Is  it 
not  impossible  to  distinguish  between  different  gradations  of 
illusions,  and  is  it  not,  therefore,  possible  that  even  self-exist- 
ence is  an  illusion  ?  What  evidence  can  any  man  produce  to 
prove  that  his  idea  of  life  is  not  a  madman's  dream?" 


THE  INNP:r  circle.  321 

"  Proceed,"  I  said. 

"At  another  time,  perhaps,"  he  remarked;  "we  have  reached 
the  Inner  Circle,  the  Sphere  of  Rest,  the  line  of  gravity,  and 
now  our  bodies  have  no  weight;  at  this  point  we  begin  to 
move  with  decreased  speed,  we  will  soon  come  to  a  quiescent 
condition,  a  state  of  rest,  and  then  start  back  on  our  rebound," 


CHAPTER  XLVri. 

HEARING   WITHOUT   EARS. — '' WHAT   WILL    BE    THE    END?" 

A  flood  of  recollections  came  over  me,  a  vivid  remembrance 
of  my  eartli-learned  school  philosophy.  "  I  rebel  again,"  I  said, 
"  I  deny  your  statements.  We  can  neither  be  moving,  nor  can  we 
be  out  of  the  atmosphere.  Fool  that  I  have  been  not  to  have 
sooner  and  better  used  my  reasoning  faculties,  not  to  have  at  once 
rejected  your  statements  concerning  the  disappearance  of  the 
atmosphere." 

"I  await  your  argument." 

"Am  I  not  speaking?  Is  other  argument  necessary?  Have 
I  not  heard  your  voice,  and  that,  too,  since  you  asserted  that  we 
had  left  the  atmosphere  ?" 

"  Continue." 

"Have  not  men  demonstrated,  and  is  it  not  accepted  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  that  sound  is  produced  by  vibrations  of 
the  air?" 

"You  speak  truly;  as  men  converse  on  surface  earth." 

"This  medium — the  air — in  wave  vibrations,  strikes  upon  the 
drum  of  the  ear,  and  thus  impresses  the  brain,"  I  continued. 

"I  agree  that  such  is  the  teachings  of  your  philosophy; 
go  on." 

"It  is  unnecessary;  you  admit  the  facts,  and  the  facts  refute 
you;  there  must  be  an  atmosphere  to  convey  sound." 

"  Can  not  you  understand  that  you  are  not  now  on  the  surface 
of  the  earth?  Will  you  never  learn  that  the  philosophy  of  your 
former  life  is  not  philosophy  here?  That  earth-bound  science  is 
science  only  with  surface-earth  men  ?  Here  science  is  a  fallacy. 
All  that  you  have  said  is  true  of  surface  earth,  but  your  argu- 
ment is  invalid  where  every  condition  is  different  from  the 
conditions  tliat  prevail  thereon.  You  use  the  organs  of  speech 
in  addressing  me  as  you  once  learned  to  use  them,  but  such 
phvsical  efforts  are  unnecessary  to  convey  sense-impressions  in 


HEARING  WITHOUT  EARS.  323 

this  condition  of  rest  and  complacency,  and  you  waste  energy 
in  employing  them.  You  assert  and  believe  that  the  air  conveys 
sound;  you  have  been  taught  such  theories  in  support  of  a 
restricted  philosophy ;  but  may  I  ask  you  if  a  bar  of  iron,  a  stick 
of  wood,  a  stream  of  water,  indeed  any  substance  known  to  you 
placed  against  the  ear  will  not  do  the  same,  and  many  substances 
even  better  than  the  atmosphere?" 
.      "  This  I  admit." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  how  the  vibration  of  any  of  these  bodies 
impresses  the  seat  of  hearing?" 

"  It  moves  the  atmosphere  which  strikes  upon  the  tympanum 
of  the  ear." 

"  You  have  not  explained  the  phenomenon ;  how  does  that 
tympanic  membrane  communicate  with  the  brain?" 

"  By  vibrations,  I  understand,"  I  answered,  and  then  I  began 
to  feel  that  this  assertion  was  a  simple  statement,  and  not  suffi- 
cient to  explain  how  matter  acts  upon  mind,  whatever  mind  may 
be,  and  I  hesitated. 

"Pray  do  not  stop,"  he  said;  "how  is  it  that  a  delicate 
vibrating  film  of  animal  membrane  can  receive  and  convey 
sound  to  a  pulpy  organic  mass  that  is  destitute  of  elasticity,  and 
which  consists  mostly  of  water,  for  the  brain  is  such  in  structure, 
and  vibrations  like  those  )ou  mention,  can  not,  by  your  own  the- 
ory, pass  through  it  as  vibrations  through  a  sonorous  material, 
or  even  reach  from  the  t}'mpanum  of  the  ear  to  the  nearest 
convolution  of  the  brain." 

"  I  can  not  explain  this,  I  admit,"  was  my  reply. 

"  Pass  that  feature,  then,  and  concede  that  this  tympanic  mem- 
brane is  capable  of  materially  affecting  brain  tissue  by  its  tiny 
vibrations,  how  can  that  slimy,  pulpy  formation  mostly  made  up 
of  water,  communicate  with  the  soul  of  man,  for  you  do  not  claim, 
I  hope,  that  brain  material  is  either  mind,  conscience,  or  soul?" 

I  confessed  my  inability  to  answer  or  even  to  theorize  on  the 
subject,  and  recognizing  my  humiliation,  I  begged  him  to  open 
the  door  to  such  knowledge. 

"The  vibration  of  the  atmosphere  is  necessary  to  man,  as 
earthy  man  is  situated,"  he  said.  "  The  coarser  attributes  known 
as  matter  formations  are  the  crudities  of  nature,  dust  swept  from 
space.     Man's  organism  is  made  up  of  the  roughest  and  lowest 


324  ETIDORHPA. 

kind  of  space  materials ;  lie  is  surrounded  by  a  turbulent  medium, 
the  air,  and  these  various  conditions  obscure  or  destroy  the 
finer  attributes  of  his  ethereal  nature,  and  prevent  a  higher 
spiritual  evolution.  His  spiritual  self  is  enveloped  in  earth,  and 
everywhere  thwarted  by  earthy  materials.  He  is  insensible  to 
the  finer  influences  of  surrounding  media  by  reason  of  the 
overwhelming  necessity  of  a  war  for  existence  with  the  grossly 
antasfonistic  materialistic  confusion  that  evervwhere  confronts, 
surrounds,  and  pervades  him.  Such  a  conflict  with  extraneous 
matter  is  necessary  in  order  that  he  may  retain  his  earthy  being, 
for,  to  remain  a  mortal,  he  must  work  to  keep  body  and  soul 
together.  His  organs  of  communication  and  perception  are 
of  '  earth,  earthy ' ;  his  nature  is  cast  in  a  mold  of  clay,  and 
the  blood  within  him  gurgles  and  struggles  in  his  brain,  a 
whirlpool  of  madly  rushing  liquid  substances,  creating  disorder 
in  the  primal  realms  of  consciousness.  He  is  ignorant  of  this 
inward  turmoil  because  he  has  never  been  without  it,  as  ignor- 
ant as  he  is  of  the  rank  odors  of  the  gases  of  the  atmosphere 
that  he  has  always  breathed,  and  can  not  perceive  because  of  the 
benumbed  olfactory  nerves.  Thus  it  is  that  all  his  subtler  senses 
are  inevitably  blunted  and  perverted,  and  his  vulgar  nature 
preponderates.  The  rich  essential  part  of  his  own  self  is 
unknown,  even  to  himself.  The  possibility  of  delight  and 
pleasure  in  an  acquaintance  with  the  finer  attributes  of  his  own 
soul  is  clouded  by  this  shrouding  materialistic  presence  that 
lias,  through  countless  generations,  become  a  part  of  man,  and 
lie  even  derives  most  of  his  mental  pleasures  from  such  acts  as 
tend  to  encourage  the  animal  passions.  Thus  it  follows  that  the 
sensitive,  highly  developed,  extremely  attenuated  part  of  his 
inner  being  has  become  subservient  to  the  grosser  elements. 
The  baser  part  of  his  nature  has  become  dominant.  He  remains 
insensible  to  impressions  from  the  highly  developed  surrounding 
media  which,  being  incapable  of  reaching  his  inner  organism 
other  than  through  mechanical  agencies,  are  powerless  to  im- 
press. Alas,  only  the  coarser  conditions  of  celestial  phenomena 
can  affect  him,  and  the  finer  expressions  of  the  universe  of  life 
and  force  are  lost  to  his  spiritual  apprehension." 

"  Would  you  have  me  view  the  soul  of  man  as  I  would  a 
material  being?" 


HEARING  WITHOUT  EARS.  325 

"Surely,"  he  answered;  "it  exists  practically  as  does  the 
more  gross  forms  of  matter,  and  in  exact  accord  with  natural 
laws.  Associated  with  lower  forms  of  matter,  the  soul  of  man  is 
a  temporary  slave  to  the  enveloping  substance.  The  ear  of  man 
as  now  constituted  can  hear  only  by  means  of  vibrations  of  such 
media  as  conduct  vibrations  in  matter — for  example,  the  air;  but 
were  man  to  be  deprived  of  the  organs  of  hearing,  and  then 
exist  for  generations  subject  to  evolutions  from  within,  whereby 
the  acuteness  of  the  spirit  would  become  intensified,  or  permitted 
to  perform  its  true  function,  he  would  learn  to  communicate  soul 
to  soul,  not  only  with  mankind,  but  with  beings  celestial  that 
surround,  and  are  now  unknown  to  him.  This  he  would  accom- 
plish through  a  medium  of  communication  that  requires  neither 
ear  nor  tongue.  To  an  extent  your  present  condition  is  what 
men  call  supernatural,  although  in  reality  you  have  been  divested 
of  only  a  part  of  your  former  material  grossness,  which  object  has 
been  accomplished  under  perfectly  natural  conditions ;  your  mind 
no  longer  requires  the  material  medium  by  which  to  converse 
with  the  spiritual.  We  are  conversing  now  by  thought  contact ; 
there  is  no  atmosphere  here,  your  tongue  moves  merely  from 
liabit,  and  not  from  necessity.  I  am  reading  your  mind  as  you 
in  turn  are  mine,  neither  of  us  is  speaking  as  you  were  accus- 
tomed to  speak." 

"I  can  not  accept  that  assertion,"  I  said;  "it  is  to  me 
impossible  to  realize  the  existence  of  such  conditions." 

"As  it  is  for  any  man  to  explain  any  phenomenon  in  life,"  he 
said.  "  Do  you  not  remember  that  you  ceased  to  respire,  and 
were  not  conscious  of  the  fact?" 

"Yes." 

"  That  your  heart  had  stopped  beating,  your  blood  no  longer 
circulated,  while  you  were  in  ignorance  of  the  change?" 

"That  is  also  true." 

"  Now  I  will  prove  my  last  assertion.  Close  your  mouth,  and 
think  of  a  question  you  wish  to  propound," 

I  did  so,  and  to  my  perfect  understanding  and  comprehension 
he  answered  me  with  closed  mouth. 

"What  will  be  the  end?"  I  exclaimed,  or  thought  aloud.  "I 
am  possessed  of  nearly  all  the  attributes  that  I  once  supposed 
inherent  only  in  a  corpse,  yet  I  live,  I  see  clearly,  I  hear  plainh-. 


326  ETIDORHPA. 

I  have  a  quickened  being,  and  a  mental  perception  intensified 
and  exquisite.  Why  and  how  has  this  been  accomplished? 
What  will  be  the  result  of  this  eventful  journey?" 

"Restful,  you  should  say,"  he  remarked;  "the  present  is 
restful,  the  end  will  be  peace.  Now  I  will  give  you  a  lesson 
concerning  the  words  Why  and  How  that  you  have  just  used." 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

AVHY     AND     HOW. — "THE     STRUGGLING     RAY     OF     LIGHT     FROM 
THOSE    FARTHERMOST   OUTREACHES." 

"Confronting  mankind  there  stands  a  sphinx — the  vast 
Unknown.  However  well  a  man  may  be  informed  concerning 
a  special  subject,  his  farthermost  outlook  concerning  that  sub- 
ject is  bounded  by  an  impenetrable  infinity." 

"Granted,"  I  interrupted,  "that  mankind  has  not  by  any 
means  attained  a  condition  of  perfection,  yet  you  must  admit 
that  questions  once  regarded  as  inscrutable  problems  are  now 
illuminated  by  the  discoveries  of  science." 

"And  the  'discovered,'  as  I  will  show,  has  only  transferred 
ignorance  to  other  places,"  he  replied.  "  Science  has  confined 
its  labors  to  superficial  descriptions,  not  the  elucidation  of  the 
fundamental  causes  of  phenomena." 

"  I  can  not  believe  you,  and  question  if  you  can  prove  what 
you  say." 

"  It  needs  no  argument  to  illustrate  the  fact.  Science  boldly 
heralds  her  descriptive  discoveries,  and  as  carefully  ignores  her 
explanatory  failures.  She  dare  not  attempt  to  explain  the  why 
even  of  the  simplest  things.  Why  does  the  robin  hop,  and  the 
snipe  walk?  Do  not  tell  me  this  is  beneath  the  notice  of  men 
of  science,  for  science  claims  that  no  subject  is  outside  her 
realm.  Search  your  works  on  natural  history  and  see  if  your 
man  of  science,  who  describes  the  habits  of  these  birds,  explains 
the  reason  for  this  evident  fact.  How  does  the  tree-frog;  chans^e 
its  color?  Do  not  answer  me  in  the  usual  superficial  manner 
concerning  the  reflection  of  light,  but  tell  me  why  the  skin  of 
that  creature  is  enabled  to  perform  this  function  ?  How  does 
the  maple-tree  secrete  a  sweet,  wholesome  sap,  and  deadly 
nightshade,  growing  in  the  same  soil  and  living  on  the  same 
elements,  a  poison?  What  is  it  that  your  scientific  men  find  in 
the  cells  of  root,  or  rootlet,  to  indicate  that  one  may  produce  a 

327 


328  ETIDORHPA. 

food,  and  the  other  a  noxious  secretion  that  can  destroy  life? 
Your  microscopist  will  discuss  cell  tissues  learnedly,  will  speak 
fluently  of  physiological  structure,  will  describe  organic  inter- 
cellular appearances,  but  ignore  all  that  lies  beyond.  Why  does 
the  nerve  in  the  tongue  respond  to  a  sensation,  and  produce  on 
the  mind  the  sense  of  taste  ?  What  is  it  that  enables  the  nerve 
in  the  nose  to  perform  its  discriminative  function?  You  do  not 
answer.  Silver  is  sonorous,  lead  is  not;  why  these  intrinsic 
differences?  Aluminum  is  a  light  metal,  gold  a  heavy  one;  what 
reason  can  you  offer  to  explain  the  facts  other  than  the  inade- 
quate term  density?  Alercury  at  ordinary  temperature  is  a 
liquid ;  can  your  scientist  tell  why  it  is  not  a  solid  ?  Of  course 
anyone  can  say  because  its  molecules  move  freely  on  each  other. 
Such  an  answer  evades  the  issue;  why  do  they  so  readily 
exert  this  action?  Copper  produces  green  or  blue  salts;  nickel 
produces  green  salts ;  have  you  ever  been  told  why  they  observe 
these  rules?  Water  solidifies  at  about  thirty-two  degrees  above 
your  so-called  zero ;  have  you  ever  asked  an  explanation  of  your 
scientific  authority  why  it  selects  that  temperature?  Alcohol 
dissolves  resins,  water  dissolves  gums ;  have  you  any  explanation 
to  offer  why  either  liquid  should  dissolve  anything,  much  less 
exercise  a  preference?  One  species  of  turtle  has  a  soft  shell, 
another  a  hard  shell ;  has  your  authority  in  natural  history 
told  you  why  this  is  so?  The  albumen  of  the  egg  of  the 
hen  hardens  at  one  hundred  and  eighty  degrees  Fahrenheit; 
the  albumen  of  the  eggs  of  some  turtles  can  not  be  easily 
coagulated  by  boiling  the  egg  in  pure  water;  why  these  differ- 
ences? Iceland  spar  and  dog-tooth  spar  are  identical,  both 
are  crystallized  carbonate  of  lime;  has  your  mineralogist 
explained  why  this  one  substance  selects  these  different  forms- 
of  crystallization,  or  why  any  crj^stal  of  any  substance  is  ever 
produced?  Why  is  common  salt  white  and  charcoal  black? 
Why  does  the  dog  lap  and  the  calf  drink?  One  child  has  black 
hair,  another  brown,  a  third  red  ;  why?  Search  your  physiology 
for  the  answer  and  see  if  your  learned  authority  can  tell  you 
why  the  life-current  makes  these  distinctions?  Why  do  the 
cells  of  the  liver  secrete  bile,  and  those  of  the  mouth  saliva? 
Why  does  any  cell  secrete  anything?  A  parrot  can  speak;  what 
has  your  anatomist  found  in  the  structure  of  the  brain,  tongue, 


WHY  AND  HOW.  329 

or  larynx  of  that  bird  to  explain  why  this  accomplishment  is 
not  as  mnch  the  birthright  of  the  turkey  ?  The  elements  that 
form  morphine  and  strychnine,  also  make  bread,  one  a  food,  the 
other  a  poison ;  can  your  chemist  offer  any  reason  for  the  fact 
that  morphine  and  bread  possess  such  opposite  characters? 
The  earth  has  one  satellite,  Saturn  is  encompassed  by  a  ring ;  it 
is  not  sufficient  to  attempt  to  refer  to  these  familiar  facts ;  tell 
me,  does  your  earth-bound  astronomer  explain  why  the  ring  of 
Saturn  was  selected  for  that  planet?  Why  are  the  salts  of 
aluminum  astringent,  the  salts  of  magnesium  cathartic,  and  the 
salts  of  arsenicum  deadly  poison?  Ask  your  toxicologist,  and 
silence  will  be  your  answer.  Why  will  some  substances  absorb 
moisture  from  the  air,  and  liquefy,  while  others  become  as  dry 
as  dust  under  like  conditions  ?  Why  does  the  vapor  of  sulphuric 
ether  inflame,  while  the  vapor  of  chloroform  is  not  combustible, 
under  ordinary  conditions?  Oil  of  turpentine,  oil  of  lemon, 
and  oil  of  bergamot  differ  in  odor,  yet  they  are  composed  of 
the  same  elements,  united  in  the  same  proportion ;  why  should 
they  possess  such  distinctive,  individual  characteristics?  Further 
search  of  the  chemist  will  explain  only  to  shove  the  word  why 
into  another  space,  as  ripples  play  with  and  toss  a  cork  about. 
Why  does  the  newly-born  babe  cry  for  food  before  its  intellect 
has  a  chance  for  worldly  education?     Why" — 

"Stop,"  I  interrupted;  "these  questions  are  absurd." 
"  So  some  of  your  scientific  experts  would  assert,"  he  replied ; 
"  perhaps  they  would  even  become  indignant  at  my  presumption 
in  asking  them,  and  call  them  childish ;  nevertheless  these  men 
can  not  satisfy  their  own  cravings  in  attempting  to  search  the 
illimitable,  and  in  humiliation,  or  irritation,  they  must  ignore 
the  word  Why.  That  word  Why  to  man  dominates  the  universe. 
It  covers  all  phenomena,  and  thrusts  inquiry  back  from  every 
depth.  Science  may  trace  a  line  of  thought  into  the  infinitely 
little,  down,  down,  beyond  that  which  is  tangible,  and  at  last  in 
that  far  distant  inter-microscopical  infinity,  monstrous  by  reason 
of  its  very  minuteness,  must  rest  its  labors  against  the  word 
Why.  Man  may  carry  his  superficial  investigation  into  the 
immeasurably  great,  beyond  our  sun  and  his  family  of  satellites, 
into  the  outer  depths  of  the  solar  system,  of  which  our  sun  is  a 
part,  past  his  sister  stars,  and  out  again  into  the  depths  of  the 


330  ETIDORIIPA. 

cold  Space  channels  beyond;  into  other  systems  and  out  again, 
until  at  last  the  nebulae  shrink  and  disappear  in  the  gloom  of 
thought-conjecture,  and  as  the  straggling  ray  of  light  from  those 
farthermost  outreaches,  too  feeble  to  tell  of  its  origin,  or  carry 
a  stor^'  of  nativity,  enters  his  eye,  he  covers  his  face  and  rests 
his  intellect  against  the  word  Why.  From  the  remote  space 
caverns  of  the  human  intellect,  beyond  the  field  of  perception, 
whether  we  appeal  to  conceptions  of  the  unknowable  in  the 
infinitely  little,  or  the  immeasurably  great,  we  meet  a  circle  of 
adamant,  as  impenetrable  as  the  frozen  cliffs  of  the  Antarctic, 
that  incomprehensible  word — Why  ! 

"  Why  did  the  light  wave  spring  into  his  field  of  perception 
by  reflection  from  the  microscopic  speck  in  the  depths  of  little- 
ness, on  the  one  hand ;  and  how  did  this  sliver  of  the  sun's  ray 
originate  in  the  depths  of  inter-stellar  space,  on  the  other?" 

I  bowed  my  head. 


DESCRIPTION   OF  JOURNEY    FROM    K.    [KENTUCKY]   TO    P. — "THE    END   OF    EARTH. 


A,  B,  Diameter  of  earth,  8,000  miles. 

A,  D,  Thickness  of  earth  crust,  Soo  miles. 

C,  D,  Distance  from  inner  earth  crust  to  en- 
ergy sphere,  100  miles. 

E,  Underground  lake. 

K,  F,  Distance  from  surface  of  lake  to  earth's 
surface. 

G,  Inner  Circle  (the  Unknown  Country  . 

H,  Middle  Circle  (Sphere  of  Energy,  or  Circle 
of  Rest  . 

X,  to  M,  Height  of  atmosphere,  200  miles. 


K,  Entrance  to  cavern  in  Kentucky. 

L,  Outer  circle,  earth's  surface. 

Mt.  E,  Mount  Epomeo  in  Italy 

N,  North  Pole. 

O,  Rock  shelf  from  which  the  leap  was  made 

into  the  intra-earth  space. 
P,  Junction  of  earth    crust    with  Circle    of 

Rest.      Point   where    I  -  Am  -  The  -  Man 

stepped    "  onward    and    upward "    in 

"  The  Unknown  Country." 
S,  South  Pole. 


CHAPTER  XUX. 

OSCIT.LATlNb    THROUGH    SPACE. — EARTH'S   SHELL    ABOVE    ME.* 

Continued  my  companion : 

"We  have  jnst  now  crossed  the  line  of  gravitation.  We 
were  drawn  downward  until  at  a  certain  point,  to  which  I  called 
your  attention  at  the  time,  we  recently  crossed  the  curved  plane 
of  perfect  rest,  wdiere  gravity  ceases,  and  by  our  momentum  are 
now  passing  beyond  that  plane,  and  are  now  pressing  against 
the  bond  of  gravitation  again.  This  shell  .in  which  gravity 
centers  is  concentric  with  that  of  the  earth's  exterior,  and  is 
about  seven  hundred  miles  below  its  surface.  Bach  moment  of 
time  will  now  behold  us  carried  farther  from  this  sphere  of 
attraction,  and  thus  the  increasing  distance  increases  the  force 
of  the  restraining  influence.  Our  momentum  is  thus  retarded, 
and  consequently  the  rapidity  of  our  motion  is  continually 
decreasing.  At  last  when  the  forces  of  gravitation  and  mass 
motion  neutralize  each  other,  we  will  come  to  a  state  of  rest 
again.  When  our  motion  in  this  direction  ceases,  however, 
gravitation,  imperishable,  continues  to  exert  its  equalizing  influ- 
ence, the  result  being  a  start  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  we 
will  then  reverse  our  course,  and  retrace  our  path,  crossing 
again  the  central  band  of  attraction,  to  retreat  and  fly  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  power  of  greater  attraction,  into  the  expanse 
from  which  we  came,  and  that  is  now  above  us." 

"Can  this  oscillation  ever  end?  Are  we  to  remain  thus, 
as  an  unceasing  pendulum,  traversing  space,  to  and  fro  across 
this  invisible  shell  of  attraction  from  now  until  the  end  of 
time?" 

"  No ;  there  are  influences  to  prevent  such  an  experience ; 
one  being  the  friction  of  the  attenuated  atmosphere  into  which 
we  plunge  each  time  that  we  cross  the  point  of  greater  gravity. 


*  For  detail  illustration  of  the  earth  shell,  as  explained  in  this  chapter,  see  the  plate. 

333 


334  KTIDORIIPA. 

and  approach  the  crust  of  the  earth.  Thus  each  succeeding 
vibration  is  in  shorter  lines,  and  at  last  we  will  come  to  a  state 
of  perfect  rest  at  the  center  of  gravit>-." 

"  I  can  only  acquiesce  in  meek  submission,  powerless  even  to 
argue,  for  I  perceive  that  the  foundations  for  my  arguments 
must  be  based  on  those  observed  conditions  of  natural  laws 
formerly  known  to  me,  and  that  do  not  encompass"  us  here ;  I 
accept,  therefore,  your  statements  as  I  have  several  times  here- 
tofore, because  I  can  not  refute  them.  I  must  close  my  eyes  to 
the  future,  and  accept  it  on  faith;  I  cease  to  mourn  the  past,  I 
can  not  presage  the  end." 

"Well  spoken,"  he  replied;  "and  while  we  are  undergoing 
this  necessary  delay,  this  oscillating  motion,  to  which  we  must 
both  submit  before  Ave  can  again  continue  our  journey,  I  will 
describe  some  conditions  inherent  in  the  three  spheres  of  which 
the  rind  of  the  earth  is  composed,  for  I  believe  that  you  are  now 
ready  to  receive  and  profit  by  facts  that  heretofore  you  would 
have  rejected  in  incredulity. 

"  The  outer  circle,  coat,  or  contour,  of  which  you  have  heard 
others  besides  myself  speak,  is  the  surface  crust  of  our  globe, 
the  great  sphere  of  land  and  water  on  which  man  is  at  present 
an  inhabitant.  This  is  the  exposed  part  of  the  earth,  and  is 
least  desirable  as  a  residence.  It  is  affected  by  grievous  atmos- 
pheric changes,  and  restless  physical  conditions,  such  as  men, 
in  order  to  exist  in,  must  fortify  against  at  the  expense  of  much 
bodily  and  mental  energy,  which  leads  them,  necessarily,  to 
encourage  the  animal  at  the  expense  of  the  ethereal.  The 
unmodified  rays  of  the  sun  produce  aerial  convulsions  that  are 
marked  by  thermal  contrasts,  and  other  meteorological  variations, 
during  which  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  cold  of  winter  follow 
each  other  periodically  and  unceasingly.  These  successive  solar 
pulsations  generate  winds,  calms,  and  storms,  and  in  order  to 
protect  himself  against  such  exposures  and  changes  in  material 
surroundings,  man  toils,  suffers,  and  comes  to  believe  that  the 
doom,  if  not  the  object,  of  life  on  earth  is  the  preservation  of 
the  earthy  body.  All  conditions  and  phases  of  nature  on  this 
outer  crust  are  in  an  angry  struggle,  and  this  commotion  envel- 
ops the  wretched  home,  and  governs  the  life  of  man.  *  The 
surrounding  cyclones  of  force  and  matter  have   distorted   the 


OSCILLATlNCx  THROUGH  SPACE.  335 

peaceful  side  of  what  human  nature  might  be  until  the  shortened 
life  of  man  has  become  a  passionate,  deplorable,  sorrowful  struo-- 
gle  for  physical  existence,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  Of 
these  facts  man  is  practically  ignorant,  although  each  individual 
is  aware  he  is  not  satisfied  with  his  condition.  If  his  afflictions 
were  obvious  to  himself,  his  existence  would  be  typical  of  a 
life  of  desolation  and  anguish.  You  know  full  well  that  the 
condition  of  the  outer  sphere  is,  as  I  have  described  it,  a  bleak, 
turbulent  surface,  the  roof  of  the  earth  on  which  man  exists,  as 
a  creeping  parasite  does  on  a  rind  of  fruit,  exposed  to  the  fury 
of  the-ever  present  earth  storms. 

"The  central  circle,  or  medial  sphere,  the  shell,  or  layer  of 
gravitation,  lies  conformably  to  the  outer  configuration  of  the 
globe,  about  seven  hundred  miles  towards  its  center.  It  stretches 
beneath  the  outer  circle  (sphere)  as  a  transparent  sheet,  a  shell 
of  energy,  the  center  of  gravitation.  The  material  crust  of 
the  earth  rests  on  this  placid  sphere  of  vigor,  excepting  in  a  few 
places,  where,  as  in  the  crevice  we  have  entered,  gaps,  or  crev- 
ices, in  matter  exist,  beginning  from  near  the  outer  surface  and 
extending  diagonally  through  the  medial  and  inner  spheres  into 
the  intra-earth  space  beyond.  This  medial  sphere  is  a  form  of 
pure  force,  a  disturbance  of  motion,  and  although  without 
weight  it  induces,  or  conserves,  gravity.  It  is  invisible  to 
mortal  eyes,  and  is  frictionless,  but  really  is  the  bone  of  the 
earth.  On  it  matter,  the  retarded  energy  of  space,  space  dust, 
has  arranged  itself  as  dust  collects  on  a  bubble  of  water.  This 
we  call  matter.  The  material  portion  of  the  earth  is  altogether 
a  surface  film,  an  insignificant  skin  over  the  sphere  of  purity, 
the  center  of  gravitation.  Although  men  naturally  imagine  that 
the  density  and  stability  of  the  earth  is  dependent  on  the  earthy 
particles,  of  which  his  own  body  is  a  part,  such  is  not  the  case- 
Earth,  as  man  upon  the  outer  surface  can  now  know  it,  is  an 
aggregation  of  material  particles,  a  shell  resting  on  this  globular 
sphere  of  medial  force,  which  attracts  solid  matter  from  both  the 
outer  and  inner  surfaces  of  earth,  forming  thereby  the  middle  of 
the  three  concentric  spheres.  This  middle  sphere  is  the  reverse 
of  the  outer,  or  surface,  layer  in  one  respect,  for,  while  it  attracts 
solids,  gases  are  repelled  by  it,  and  thus  the  atmosphere  becomes 
less  dense  as  we  descend  from  the  outer  surfaces  of  the  earth. 


33G 


ETIDORHPA. 


The  greater  degree  of  attraction  for  gases  belongs,  therefore,  to 
the  earth's  exterior  surface." 

"Exactly  at  the  earth's  exterior  surface?"  I  asked. 
"  Practically  so.  The  greatest  density  of  the  air  is  found  a 
few  miles  below  the  surface  of  the  ocean ;  the  air  becomes  more 
attenuated  as  we  proceed  in  either  direction  from  that  point. 
Were  this  not  the  case,  the  atmosphere  that  surrounds  the  earth 
would  be  quickly  absorbed  into  its  substance,  or  expand  into 
space  and  disappear." 

"  Scientific  men  claim  that  the  atmosphere  is  forty-five  geo- 
graphical miles  in  depth  over  the  earth's  surface,"  I  said. 

"If  the  earth  is  eight  thousand  miles  in  diameter,  how  long 
would  such  an  atmosphere,  a  skin  only,  over  a  great  ball,  resist 
such  attraction,  and  remain  above   the   globe?     Were  it  really 

attracted  towards  its 
center  it  would  disap- 
pear as  a  film  of  water 
sinks  into  a  sponge." 

"  Do  you  know,"  I  in- 
terrupted, "  that  if  these 
statements  were  made 
to  men  they  would  not 
be  credited?  Scientific 
men  have  calculated  the 
weights  of  the  planets, 
and  have  estimated 
therefrom  the  density 
of  the  earth,  showing  it 
to  be  solid,  and  know- 
ing its  density,  they 
would,  on  this  consider- 
ation alone,  discredit 
>our  story  concerning 
the  earth  shell." 
"You  mistake,  as  you  will  presently  see.  It  is  true  that 
man's  ingenuity  has  enabled  him  to  ascertain  the  weights  and 
densities  of  the  planets,  but  do  you  mean  to  say  that  these 
scientific  results  preclude  the  possibility  of  a  hollow  interior  of 
the  heavenly  bodies?" 


THE    EARTH    AND   ITS   ATMOSPHERE. 

The  space  between  the  inner  and  the  outer  lines 
represents  the  atmosphere  upon  the  earth.  The  depth 
to  which  man  has  penetrated  the  earth  is  less  than  the 
thickness  of  either  line,  as  compared  with  the  diameter 
of  the  inner  circle 


OSCILLATING  THROUGH  SPACE.  337 

"I  confess,  I  do," 

"You  should  know  then,  that  what  men  define  as  density  of 
the  earth,  is  but  an  average  vahie,  which  is  mnch  higher  than 
that  exhibited  by  materials  in  the  surface  layers  of  the  earth 
crust,  such  as  come  within  the  scrutiny  of  man.  This  fact 
allows  mortals  of  upper  earth  but  a  vague  conjecture  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  seemingly  much  heavier  substances  that  exist  in 
the  interior  of  the  earth.  Have  men  any  data  on  hand  to  show 
exactly  how  matter  is  distributed  below  the  limited  zone  that  is 
accessible  to  their  investigations?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"•You  may  safely  accept,  then,  that  the  earth  shell  I  have 
described  to  you  embraces  in  a  compact  form  the  total  weight 
of  the  earth.  Even  though  men  take  for  granted  that  matter 
fills  out  the  whole  interior  of  our  planet,  such  material  would 
not,  if  distributed  as  on  earth's  surface,  give  the  earth  the  density 
he  has  determined  for  it." 

"I  must  acquiesce  in  your  explanations." 

"  Let  us  now  go  a  step  further  in  this  argument.  What  do 
you  imagine  is  the  nature  of  those  heavier  substances  whose 
existence  deep  within  the  earth  is  suggested  by  the  exceedingly 
high  total  density  observed  by  man  on  upper  earth?" 

"I  am  unable  to  explain,  especially  as  the  materials  sur- 
rounding us  here,  seemingly  do  not  differ  much  from  those  with 
which  my  former  life  experience  has  made  me  acquainted." 

"  Your  observation  is  correct,  there  is  no  essential  difference 
in  this  regard.  But  as  we  are  descending  into  the  interior  of 
this  globe,  and  are  approaching  the  central  seat  of  the  shell  of 
■energy,  the  opposing  force  into  which  we  plunge  becomes 
correspondingly  stronger,  and  as  a  consequence,  matter  pressed 
within  it  becomes  really  lighter.  Your  own  experience  about 
your  weight  gradually  disappearing  during  this  journey  should 
convince  you  of  the  correctness  of  this  fact." 

"  Indeed,  it  does,"  I  admitted. 

"You  will  then  readily  understand,  that  the  heavy  material 
to  which  surface-bred  mortals  allude  as  probably  constituting 
the  interior  of  the  earth,  is,  in  fact,  nothing  but  the  manifesta- 
tion of  a  matter  supporting  force,  as  exemplified  in  the  sphere  of 
attractive  energy,  the  seat  of  which  we  are  soon  to  encounter  on 


338  ETIDORHPA. 

our  journey.  Likewise  the  mutual  attraction  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  is  not  a  property  solely  of  their  material  part,  but  an 
expression  in  which  both  the  force-spheres  and  the  matter  col- 
lected thereon  take  part. 

"Tell  me  more  of  the  sphere  in  which  gravitation  is  in- 
tensest." 

"  Of  that  you  are  yet  to  judge,"  he  replied.  "  When  we  come 
to  a  state  of  rest  in  the  stratum  of  greater  gravity,  we  will  then 
traverse  this  crevice  in  the  sheet  of  energy  until  we  reach  the 
edge  of  the  earth  crust,  after  which  we  will  ascend  towards  the 
interior  of  the  earth,  until  we  reach  the  inner  crust,  which  is,  as 
before  explained,  a  surface  of  matter  that  lies  comformably  with 
the  external  crust  of  the  earth,  and  which  is  the  interior  surface 
of  the  solid  part  of  the  earth.  There  is  a  concave  world  beneath 
tne  outer  convex  world." 

"  I  can  not  comprehend  you.  You  speak  of  continuing  our 
journey  towards  the  center  of  the  earth,  and  at  the  same  time 
you  say  that  after  leaving  the  Median  Circle,  we  will  then 
ascend,  which  seems  contradictory." 

"  I  have  endeavored  to  show  you  that  matter  is  resting  in  or 
on  a  central  sphere  of  energy,  which  attracts  solid  bodies  towards 
its  central  plane.  From  this  fundamental  and  permanent  seat  of 
gravity  we  may  regard  our  progress  as  up-hill,  whether  we  pro- 
ceed towards  the  hollow  center  or  towards  the  outer  surface  of 
the  globe.  If  a  stick  weighted  on  one  end  is  floated  upright  in 
water,  an  insect  on  the  top  of  the  stick  above  the  water  will  fall 
to  the  surface  of  the  liquid,  and  yet  the  same  insect  will  rise  to 
the  surface  of  the  water  if  liberated  beneath  the  water  at  the 
bottom  of  the  stick.  This  comparison  is  not  precisely  applicable 
to  our  present  position,  for  there  is  no  change  in  medium  here, 
but  it  may  serve  as  an  aid  to  thought  and  may  indicate  to  you 
that  which  I  wish  to  convey  when  I  say  '  we  ascend '  in  both 
directions  as  we  pull  against  Gravity.  The  terms  up  and  down 
are  not  absolute,  but  relative." 

Thus  we  continued  an  undefined  period  in  mind  conversation  ; 
and  of  the  information  gained  in  my  experience  of  that  delight- 
ful condition,  I  have  the  privilege  now  to  record  but  a  small 
portion,  and  even  this  statement  of  facts  appears,  as  I  glance 
backward  into  my  human  existence,  as  if  it  may  seem  to  others 


OSCIIvLATING  THROUGH  SPACR.  339 

to  border  on  the  incredible.  During  all  that  time — I  know  not 
how  long  the  period  may  have  been — we  were  alternately  passing 
and  repassing  through  the  partition  of  division  (the  sphere  of 
gravity)  that  separated  the  inner  from  the  outer  substantial 
crust  of  earth.  With  each  vibration  our  line  of  travel  became 
shorter  and  shorter,  like  the  decreasing  oscillations  of  a  pendu- 
lum, and  at  last  I  could  no  longer  perceive  the  rushing  motion 
of  a  medium  like  the  air.  Finally  my  guide  said  that  we  were 
at  perfect  rest  at  a  point  in  that  mysterious  medial  sphere  which, 
at  a  distance  of  about  seven  hundred  miles  below  the  level  of 
the  sea,  concentrates  in  its  encompassing  curvature,  the  mighty 
power  of  gravitation.  We  were  fixed  sev-en  hundred  miles  from 
the  outer  surface  of  the  globe,  but  more  than  three  thousand 

from  the  center. 

23 


CHAPTER  L. 

MY    WEIGHT    ANNIHILATED. — "TELE    ME,"    I    CRIED    IX   ALARM, 
"is    THIS   TO   BE   A    LIVING    TOMB?" 

"  If  you  will  reflect  upon  the  condition  we  are  now  in, 
you  will  perceive  that  it  must  be  one  of  unusual  scientific 
interest.  If  you  imagine  a  body  at  rest,  in  an  intangible  medium, 
and  not  in  contact  with  a  gas  or  any  substance  capable  of 
creating  friction,  that  body  by  the  prevailing  theory  of  matter 
and  motion,  unless  disturbed  by  an  impulse  from  without,  would 
remain  forever  at  absolute  rest.  We  now  occupy  such  a  position. 
In  whatever  direction  we  may  now  be  situated,  it  seems  to  us 
that  we  are  upright.  We  are  absolutely  without  weight,  and  in 
a  perfectly  frictionless  medium.  Should  an  inanimate  body 
begin  to  revolve  here,  it  would  continue  that  motion  forever.  If 
our  equilibrium  should  now  be  disturbed,  and  we  should  begin 
to  move  in  a  direction  coinciding  with  the  plane  in  which  we 
are  at  rest,  we  would  continue  moving  with  the  same  rapidity  in 
that  direction  until  our  course  was  arrested  by  some  opposing 
object.  We  are  not  subject  to  attraction  of  matter,  for  at  this 
place  gravitation  robs  matter  of  its  gravity,  and  has  no  influence 
on  extraneous  substances.  We  are  now  in  the  center  of  gravita- 
tion, the  '  Sphere  of  Rest.'  " 

"Let  me  think  it  out,"  I  replied,  and  reasoning  from  his 
remarks,  I  mentally  followed  the  chain  to  its  sequence,  and  was 
startled  as  suddenly  it  dawned  upon  me  that  if  his  argument  was 
true  we  must  remain  motionless  in  this  spot  until  death  (could 
beinsfs  in  conditions  like  ourselves  die  bevond  the  death  we  had 
already  achieved)  or  the  end  of  time.  We  were  at  perfect  rest, 
in  absolute  vacancy,  there  being,  as  I  now  accepted  without 
reserve,  neither  gas,  liquid,  nor  solid,  that  we  could  employ  as 
a  lever  to  start  us  into  motion.  "  Tell  me,"  I  cried  in  alarm,  "  is 
this  to  be  a  living  tomb?  Are  we  to  remain  suspended  here 
forever,  and  if  not,  by  what  method  can  we  hope  to  extricate 

340 


MY  WEIGHT  ANNIHIIvATED.  341 

ourselves  from  this  state  of  perfect  quiescence?"  He  again  took 
the  bar  of  iron  from  my  hand,  and  cautiously  gave  it  a  whirling 
motion,  releasing  it  as  he  did  so.  It  revolved  silently  and  rapidly 
in  space  without  support  or  pivot. 

"So  it  would  continue,"  he  remarked,  "until  the  end  of  time, 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  I  could  not  possibly  release  it  in  a 
condition  of  absolute  horizontal  rest.  There  is  a  slight,  slow, 
lateral  motion  that  will  carry  the  object  parallel  with  this  sheet 
of  energy  to  the  material  side  of  this  crevice,  when  its  motion 
will  'be  arrested  by  the  earth  it  strikes.' " 

"That  I  can  understand,"  I  replied,  and  then  a  ray  of  light 
broke  upon  me,  "  Had  not  Cavendish  demonstrated  that,  when 
a  small  ball  of  lead  is  suspended  on  a  film  of  silk,  near  a  mass  of 
iron  or  lead,  it  is  drawn  towards  the  greater  body?  We  will  be 
drawn  by  gravity  to  the  nearest  cliff,"  I  cried. 

"You  mistake,"  he  answered;  "Cavendish  performed  his 
experiments  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  there  gravity  is 
always  ready  to  start  an  object  into  motion.  Here  objects  have 
no  weight,  and  neither  attract  nor  repel  each  other.  The  force 
of  cohesion  holds  together  substances  that  are  in  contact,  but  as 
gravitation  can  not  now  affect  matter  out  of  molecular  contact 
with  other  forms  of  matter,  because  of  the  equilibrium  of  all 
objects,  so  it  may  be  likewise  said,  that  bodies  out  of  contact 
have  at  this  point  no  attraction  for  one  another.  If  they  pos- 
sessed this  attribute,  long  ago  we  would  have  been  drawn 
towards  the  earth  cliff  with  inconceivable  velocity.  However,  if 
by  any  method  our  bodies  should  receive  an  impulse  sufiicient  to 
start  them  into  motion,  ever  so  gently  though  it  be,  we  in  like 
manner  would  continue  to  move  in  this  frictionless  medium — 
until  "— 

"We  would  strike  the  material  boundary  of  this  crevice," 
I  interrupted. 

"  Yes ;  but  can  you  conceive  of  any  method  by  which  such 
voluntary  motion  can  now  be  acquired?" 

"No." 

"  Does  it  not  seem  to  you,"  he  continued,  "  that  when  skillful 
mechanics  on  the  earth's  surface  are  able  to  adjust  balances  so 
delicately  that  in  the  face  of  friction  of  metal,  friction  of  air, 
inertia  of  mass,  the  thousandth  part  of  a  grain  can  produce 


342  ETIDORHPA. 

motion  of  the  great  beams  and  pans  of  such  balances,  we,  in 
this  location  where  there  is  no  friction  and  no  opposing  medium 
— none  at  all — should  be  able  to  induce  mass  motion?" 

"  I  can  not  imagine  how  it  is  possible,  unless  we  shove  each 
other  apart.  There  is  no  other  object  to  push  against, — but  why 
do  you  continue  to  hold  me  so  tightly?"  I  interrupted  myself  to 
ask,  for  he  was  clasping  me  firmly  again. 

"  In  order  that  you  may  not  leave  me,"  he  replied. 

"Come,  you  trifle,"  I  said  somewhat  irritated;  "you  have 
just  argued  that  we  are  immovably  suspended  in  a  frictionless 
medium,  and  fixed  in  our  present  position ;  you  ask  me  to  sug- 
gest some  method  by  which  we  can  create  motion,  and  I  fail  to 
devise  it,  and  almost  in  the  same  sentence  you  say  that  you  fear 
that  I  will  leave  you.  Cease  your  incongruities,  and  advise  with 
me  rationally." 

"Where  is  the  bar  of  iron?"  he  asked. 

I  turned  towards  its  former  location ;  it  had  disappeared. 

"  Have  you  not  occasionally  felt,"  he  asked,  "  that  in  your 
former  life  your  mind  was  a  slave  in  an  earthly  prison  ?  Have 
you  never,  especially  in  your  dreams,  experienced  a  sensation  of 
mental  confinement?" 

"Yes." 

"  Know  then,"  he  replied,  "  that  there  is  a  connection  between 
the  mind  and  the  body  of  mortal  beings,  in  which  matter  confines 
mind,  and  yet  mind  governs  matter.  How  else  could  the  will  of 
men  and  animals  impart  voluntary  motion  to  earthy  bodies? 
With  beings  situated  as  are  the  animals  on  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  mind  alone  can  not  overcome  the  friction  of  matter.  A 
person  could  suspend  himself  accurately  on  a  string,  or  balance 
himself  on  a  pivot,  and  wish  with  the  entire  force  of  his  mind 
that  his  body  would  revolve,  and  still  he  would  remain  at  perfect 
rest." 

"  Certainly.  A  man  would  be  considered  crazy  who  attempted 
it,"  I  answered. 

"Notwithstanding  your  opinion,  in  time  to  come,  human 
beings  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  will  investigate  in  this  very 
direction,"  he  replied,  "  and  in  the  proper  time  mental  evolution 
will,  by  experimentation,  prove  the  fact  of  this  mind  and  matter 
connection,  and  demonstrate  that  even  extraneous  matter  may 


MY  WEIGHT  ANNIHILATED.  343 

be  made  subservient  to  mind  influences.  On  earth,  mind  acts 
on  the  matter  of  one's  body  to  produce  motion  of  matter,  and 
the  spirit  within,  which  is  a  slave  to  matter,  moves  with  it. 
Contraries  rule  here.  Mind  force  acts  on  pure  space  motion, 
moving  itself  and  matter  with  it,  and  that,  too,  without  any 
exertion  of  the  material  body  which  now  is  a  nonentity,  mind 
here  being  the  master." 

"How  can  I  believe  you?"  I  replied. 

"  Know,  then,"  he  said,  "  that  we  are  in  motion  now,  propelled 
by  my  will  power." 

"Prove  it." 

"You  may  prove  it  yourself,"  he  said;  "but  be  careful,  or  we 
will  separate  forever." 

Releasing  his  grasp,  he  directed  me  to  wish  that  I  were 
moving  directly  to  the  right.  I  did  so ;  the  distance  widened 
between  us. 

"  Wish  intensely  that  you  would  move  in  a  circle  about  me." 

I  acquiesced,  and  at  once  my  body  began  to  circle  around  him. 

"  Call  for  the  bar  of  iron." 

I  did  as  directed,  and  soon  it  came  floating  out  of  space  into 
my  very  hand. 

"I  am  amazed,"  I  ejaculated;  "yes,  more  surprised  at  these 
phenomena  than  at  anything  that  has  preceded." 

"You  need  not  be;  you  move  now  under  the  influences  of 
natural  laws  that  are  no  more  obscure  or  wonderful  than  those 
under  which  you  have  always  existed.  Instead  of  exercising  its 
influence  on  a  brain,  and  thence  indirectly  on  a  material  body, 
your  mind  force  is  exerting  its  action  through  energy  on  matter 
itself.  Matter  is  here  subservient.  It  is  nearly  the  same  as 
vacuity,  mind  being  a  comprehensive  reality.  The  positions  we 
have  heretofore  occupied  have  been  reversed,  and  mind  now 
dominates.  Know,  that  as  your  body  is  now  absolutely  without 
weight,  and  is  suspended  in  a  frictionless  medium,  the  most 
delicate  balance  of  a  chemist  can  not  approach  in  sensitiveness 
the  adjustment  herein  exemplified.  Your  body  does  not  weigh 
the  fraction  of  the  millionth  part  of  a  grain,  and  where  there  is 
neither  material  weight  nor  possible  friction,  even  the  attrition 
that  on  surface  earth  results  from  a  needle  point  that  rests  on  an 
agate  plate  is  immeasurably  greater  in  comparison.     Pure  mind 


344  ETIDORHPA. 

energy  is  capable  of  disturbing  the  equilibrium  of  matter  in  our 
situation,  as  you  have  seen  exemplified  by  our  movements  and 
extraneous  materials,  'dead  matter'  obeys  the  spiritual.  The 
bar  of  iron  obeyed  your  call,  the  spiritless  metal  is  subservient  to- 
the  demands  of  intelligence.  But,  come,  we  must  continue  our 
journey." 

Grasping  me  again,  he  exclaimed:  "Wish  with  all  intensity 
that  we  may  move  forward,  and  I  will  do  the  same." 

I  did  so. 

"  We  are  now  uniting  our  energies  in  the  creation  of  motion," 
he  said ;  "  we  are  moving  rapidly,  and  with  continually  acceler- 
ated speed;  before  long  we  will  perceive  the  earthy  border  of 
this  chasm." 

And  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  were  at  perfect  rest. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

IS   THAT   A   MORTAI^? — "THE    END    OF    EARTH." 

At  length  I  perceived,  in  the  distance,  a  crescent-shaped 
ring  of  silver  luster.  It  grew  broader,  expanding  beneath  my 
gaze,  and  appeared  to  approach  rapidly. 

"Hold;  cease  your  desire  for  onward  motion,"  said  the  guide; 
"  we  approach  too  rapidly.  Quick,  wish  with  all  your  mind  that 
you  were  motionless." 

I  did  so,  and  we  rested  in  front  of  a  ridge  of  brilliant  mate- 
rial, that  in  one  direction,  towards  the  earth's  outer  circle, 
broadened  until  it  extended  upward  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  in  the  form  of  a  bold  precipice,  and  in  the  other  towards 
the  inner  world,  shelved  gradually  away  as  an  ocean  beach 
might  do. 

"Tell  me,  what  is  this  barrier?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  the  bisected  edge  of  the  earth  crevice,"  he  said. 
"  That  overhanging  upright  bluff  reaches  towards  the  external 
surface  of  the  earth,  the  land  of  your  former  home.  That 
shelving  approach  beneath  is  the  entrance  to  the  '  Inner  Circle,' 
the  concavity  of  our  world." 

Again  we  approached  the  visible  substance,  moving  gently 
under  the  will  of  my  guide.  The  shore  became  more  distinctly 
outlined  as  we  advanced,  inequalities  that  were  before  unnoticed 
became  perceptible,  and  the  silver-like  material  resolved  itself 
into  ordinary  earth.  Then  I  observed,  upright  and  motionless, 
on  the  edge  of  the  shore  that  reached  toward  the  inner  shell  of 
earth,  towards  that  "Unknown  Country"  beyond,  a  figure  in 
human  form. 

"Is  that  a  mortal?"  I  asked.  "Are  we  nearing  humanity 
again?" 

"  It  is  a  being  of  mortal  build,  a  messenger  who  awaits  our 
coming,  and  who  is  to  take  charge  of  your  person  and  conduct 
you  farther,"  he  replied.      "  It  has  been  my  duty  to  crush,  to 


346  ETIDORHPA. 

overcome  by  successive  lessons  your  obedience  to  your  dogmatic, 
materialistic  earth  philosophy,  and  bring  your  mind  to  compre- 
hend that  life  on  earth's  surface  is  only  a  step  towards  a  brighter 
existence,  which  may,  when  selfishness  is  conquered,  in  a  time 
to  come,  be  gained  by  mortal  man,  and  while  he  is  in  the  flesh. 
The  vicissitudes  through  which  you  have  recently  passed  should 
be  to  you  an  impressive  lesson,  but  the  future  holds  for  you  a 
lesson  far  more  important,  the  knowledge  of  spiritual,  or  mental 
evolution  which  men  may  yet  approach ;  but  that  I  would  not 
presume  to  indicate  now,  even  to  you.  Your  earthly  body  has 
become  a  useless  shell,  and  when  you  lay  it  aside,  as  you  soon 
can  do,  as  I  may  say  you  are  destined  to  do,  you  will  feel  a  relief 
as  if  an  abnormal  excrescence  had  been  removed ;  but  yon  can 
not  now  comprehend  such  a  condition.  "That  change  will  not 
occur  until  you  have  been  further  educated  in  the  purely  occult 
secrets  for  which  I  have  partly  prepared  you,  and  the  material 
part  of  your  organism  will  at  any  time  thereafter  come  and  go  at 
command  of  your  will.  On  that  adjacent  shore,  the  person  you 
have  observed,  your  next  teacher,  awaits  you." 

"Am  I  to  leave  you?"  I  cried  in  despair,  for  suddenly  the 
remembrance  of  home  came  into  my  mind,  and  the  thought,  as 
by  a  flash,  that  this  being  alone  could  guide  me  back  to  earth. 
"  Recall  your  words,  do  not  desert  me  now  after  leading  me 
beyond  even  alchemistic  imaginings  into  this  subterranean 
existence,  the  result  of  what  you  call  your  natural,  or  pure, 
ethereal  lessons." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  beg  of  you,  I  implore  of  you,  not  to  abandon  me  now; 
have  you  no  compassion,  no  feeling?  You  are  the  one  tie  that 
binds  me  to  earth  proper,  the  only  intelligence  that  I  know  to  be 
related  to  a  human  in  all  this  great,  bright  blank." 

Again  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Hearken  to  my  pleadings.  Listen  to  my  allegation.  You 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  brook  spring  in  Kentucky,  your  back 
to  the  darkness  of  that  gloomy  cavern,  and  I  voluntaril)-  gave 
you  my  hand  as  to  a  guide ;  I  turned  from  the  verdure  of  the 
earth,  the  sunshine  of  the  past,  and  accompanied  you  into  as 
dismal  a  cavern  as  man  ever  entered.  I  have  since  alternately 
rebelled  at  your  methods,  and  again  have  trusted  you  implicitly 


"suspended  in  vacancy,  he  seemed  to  float. 


IS  THAT  A  MORTAL?  349 

as  we  passed  through  scenes  that  rational  imagination  scarce 
could  conjure.  I  have  successively  lost  my  voice,  my  weight, 
my  breath,  my  heart  throb,  and  my  soul  for  aught  I  know. 
Now  an  unknown  future  awaits  me  on  the  one  hand,  in  which 
you  say  my  body  is  to  disappear,  and  on  the  other  you  are 
standing,  the  only  link  between  earth  and  my  self-existence, 
a  semi-mortal  it  may  be,  to  speak  mildly,  for  God  only  knows 
your  true  rank  in  life's  scale.  Be  you  man  or  not,  you  brought 
me  here,  and  are  responsible  for  my  future  safety.  I  plead  and 
beg  of  you  either  to  go  on  with  me  into  the  forthcoming  uncer- 
tainty '  Within  the  Unknown  Country '  to  which  you  allude,  or 
carry  me  back  to  upper  earth." 

He  shook  his  head  again,  and  motioned  me  onward,  and 
his  powerful  will  overcoming  my  feeble  resistance,  impelled 
me  towards  that  mysterious  shore.  I  floated  helpless,  as  a 
fragment  of  camphor  whirls  and  spins  on  a  surface  of  clear, 
warm  water,  spinning  and  whirling  aimlessly  about,  but  moving 
onward.  My  feet  rested  on  solid  earth,  and  I  awkwardly 
struggled  a  short  distance  onward  and  upward,  and  then  stepped 
upon  the  slope  that  reached,  as  he  had  said,  inward  and  upward 
towards  the  unrevealed  "  Inner  Circle."  I  had  entered  now  that 
mysterious  third  circle  or  sphere,  and  I  stood  on  the  very  edge  of 
the  wonderful  land  I  was  destined  to  explore,  "The  Unknown 
Country."  The  strange,  peaceful  being  whom  I  had  observed  on 
the  shore,  stepped  to  my  side,  and  clasped  both  my  hands,  and 
the  guide  of  former  days  waved  me  an  adieu.  I  sank  upon  my 
knees  and  imploringly  raised  my  arms  in  supplication,  but  the 
comrade  of  my  journey  turned  about,  and  began  to  retrace  his 
course.  Suspended  in  vacancy,  he  seemed  to  float  as  a  spirit 
would  if  it  were  Avafted  diagonally  into  the  heavens,  and  acquiring 
momentum  rapidly,  became  quickly  a  bright  speck,  seemingly  a 
silver  mote  in  the  occult  earth  shine  of  that  central  sphere,  and 
soon  vanished  from  view.  In  all  my  past  eventful  history  there 
was  nothing  similar  to  or  approaching  in  keenness  the  agony 
that  I  suffered  at  this  moment,  and  I  question  if  shipwrecked 
sailor  or  entombed  miner  ever  experienced  the  sense  of  utter  deso- 
lation that  now  possessed  and  overcame  me.  Light  everywhere 
about  me,  ever-present  light,  but  darkness  within,  darkness 
indescribable,  and  mental  distress  unutterable.     I  fell  upon  my 


3.-)0  KTIDORIIPA. 

face  in  agony,  and  thought  of  other  times,  and  those  remem- 
brances of  my  once  happy  upper  earth  Hfe  became  excruciatingly 
painful,  for  when  a  person  is  in  misery,  pleasant  recollections, 
bv  contrast,  increase  the  pain.  "  Let  my  soul  die  now  as  my 
body  has  done,"  I  moaned;  "for  even  mental  life,  all  I  now 
possess,  is  a  burden.  The  past  to  me  is  a  painful,  melancholy 
recollection;  the  future  is" — 

I  shuddered,  for  who  could  foretell  my  future  ?  I  glanced  at 
the  immovable  being  with  the  sweet,  mild  countenance,  who 
stood  silent  on  the  strand  beside  me,  and  whom  I  shall  not  now 
attempt  to  describe.     He  replied : 

"  The  future  is  operative  and  speculative.  It  leads  the  con- 
templative to  view  with  reverence  and  admiration  the  glorious 
works  of  the  Creator,  and  inspires  him  with  the  most  exalted 
ideas  of  the  perfections  of  his  divine  Creator." 

Then  he  added : 

"  Have  you  accepted  that  whatever  seems  to  be  is  not,  and 
that  that  which  seems  not  to  be,  is?  Have  you  learned  that 
facts  are  fallacies,  and  physical  existence  a  delusion?  Do  you 
accept  that  material  bliss  is  impossible,  and  that  while  humanity 
is  working  towards  the  undiscovered  land,  man  is  not,  can  not 
be  satis^fied?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "I  admit  anything,  everything.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  am  here  or  that  you  are  there.  I  do  not  know  that 
I  have  ever  been,  or  that  any  form  of  matter  has  ever  had  an 
existence.  Perhaps  material  things  are  not,  perhaps  vacuity 
only  is  tangible." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  relinquish  your  former  associations,  to 
cease  to  concern  yourself  in  the  affairs  of  men?     Do  you  " — 

He  hesitated,  seemed  to  consider  a  point  that  I  could  not 
grasp;  then,  without  completing  his  sentence,  or  waiting  for  me 
to  answer,  added : 

"  Come,  my  friend,  let  us  enter  the  expanses  of  the  Unknown 
Country.  You  will  soon  behold  the  original  of  your  vision,  the 
hope  of  humanity,  and  will  rest  in  the  land  of  Etidorhpa.  Come, 
my  friend,  let  us  hasten." 

Arm  in  arm  we  passed  into  that  domain  of  peace  and  tran- 
quillity, and  as  I  stepped  onward  and  upward  perfect  rest  came 
over  my  troubled  spirit.    All  thoughts  of  former  times  vanished. 


IS  THAT  A  MORTAL?  351 

The  cares  of  life  faded ;  misery,  distress,  hatred,  envy,  jealousy, 
and  unholy  passions,  were  blotted  from  existence.  Excepting 
my  love  for  dear  ones  still  earth-enthralled,  and  the  strand  of 
sorrow  that,  stretching  from  soul  to  soul,  linked  us  together,  the 
past  became  a  blank.     I  had  reached  the  land  of  Etidorhpa — 

THE   END  OF   EARTH. 


INTERLUDE. 

CHAPTER  LI  I. 

THK    LAST   FARKWKLL. 

"Sly  in}'sterious  guest,  he  of  the  silver,  flowing  beard,  read 
the  last  word  of  the  foregoing  manuscript,  and  then  laid  the 
sheet  of  paper  on  the  table,  and  rested  his  head  upon  his  hand, 
gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  open  fire.  Thus  he  sat  for  a  consider- 
able period  in  silence.     Then  he  said : 

"You  have  heard  part  of  my  story,  that  portion  which  I  am 
commanded  to  make  known  now,  and  you  have  learned  how,  b\' 
natural  methods,  I  passed  by  successive  steps  while  in  the  body, 
to  the  door  that  death  only,  as  yet,  opens  to  humanity.  You 
understand  also  that,  although  of  human  form,  I  am  not  as  other 
men  (for  with  me  matter  is  subservient  to  mind),  and  as  you 
have  promised,  so  you  must  act,  and  do  my  bidding  concerning 
the  manuscript." 

"  But  there  is  surely  more  to  follow.  You  will  tell  me  of 
what  you  saw  and  experienced  beyond  the  end  of  earth,  within 
the  possessions  of  Etidorhpa.  Tell  me  of  that  Unknown  Coun- 
try." 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  this  is  the  end,  at  least  so  far  as  mv 
connection  with  you  is  concerned.  You  still  question  certain 
portions  of  my  narrative,  I  perceive,  notwithstanding  the  prov- 
ings  I  have  given  you,  and  yet  as  time  passes  investigation  will 
show  that  every  word  I  have  read  or  uttered  is  true,  historically, 
philosophically,  and  spiritually  (which  you  now  doubt),  and 
men  will  yet  readily  understand  how  the  seemingly  profound, 
unfathomable  phenomena  I  have  encountered  may  be  verified. 
I  have  studied  and  learned  by  bitter  experience  in  a  school  that 
teaches  from  the  outgoings  of  a  deeper  philosophy  than  human 
science   has    reached,    especiallv   modern    materialistic   science 

352 


THE  LAST  FARP^WRI^L.  353 

which,  however,  step  by  step  it  is  destined  to  reach.  And  yet  I 
have  recorded  bnt  a  small  part  of  the  experiences  that  I  have 
undergone.  What  I  have  related  is  only  a  foretaste  of  the 
inexhaustible  feast  which,  in  the  wisdom  expanse  of  the  future, 
will  yet  be  spread  before  man,  and  which  tempts  him  onward 
and  upward.  This  narrative,  which  rests  against  the  beginning 
of  nn-  real  story,  the  Unknown  Country  and  its  possibilities 
should  therefore  incite  to  renewed  exertions,  both  mental  and 
experimental,  those  permitted  to  review  it.  I  have  carried  my 
history  to  the  point  at  which  I  can  say  to  you,  very  soon  after- 
ward I  gave  up  my  body  temporarily,  by  a  perfectly  natural 
process,  a  method  that  man  can  yet  employ,  and  passed  as  a 
spiritual  being  into  the  ethereal  spaces,  through  those  many 
mansions  which  I  am  not  permitted  to  describe  at  this  time,  and 
from  which  I  have  been  forced  unwillingl}'  to  return  and  take  up 
the  semblance  of  my  body,  in  order  to  meet  you  and  record 
these  events.  I  must  await  the  development  and  expansion  of 
mind  that  will  permit  men  to  accept  this  faithful  record  of  my 
history  before  completing  the  narrative,  for  men  are  yet  unpre- 
pared. Men  must  seriously  consider  those  truths  which,  under 
inflexible  natural  laws,  govern  the  destiny  of  man,  but  which,  if 
mentioned  at  this  day  can  only  be  viewed  as  the  hallucinations 
of  a  disordered  mind.  To  many  this  manuscript  will  prove  a 
passing  romance,  to  others  an  enigma,  to  others  still  it  will  be 
a  pleasing  study.  Men  are  not  now  in  a  condition  to  receive 
even  this  paper.  That  fact  I  know  full  well,  and  I  have  accord- 
ingh-  arranged  that  thirty  years  shall  pass  before  it  is  made 
public.  Then  they  will  have  begun  to  study  more  deeply  into 
force  disturbances,  exhibitions  of  energy  that  are  now  known 
and  called  imponderable  bodies  (perhaps  some  of  my  statements 
will  then  even  be  verified),  and  to  reflect  over  the  connection 
of  matter  therewith.  A  few  minds  will  then  be  capable  of 
vaguely  conceiving  possibilities,  which  this  paper  will  serve 
to  foretell,  for  a  true  solution  of  the  great  problems  of  the 
ethereal  unknown  is  herein  suggested,  the  study  of  wdiich 
will  lead  to  a  final  elevation  of  humanity,  such  as  I  dare  not 
prophesy." 

"  Much  of  the  paper  is  obscure  to  me,"  I  said;  "  and  there  are 
occasional  phrases  and  repetitions  that  appear  to  be  interjected, 


354  ETinORHPA. 

possibly,  with  an  object,  and  which  are  yet  disconnected  from 
the  narrative  proper," 

"  That  is  true ;  the  paper  often  contains  statements  that  are 
emblematical,  and  which  yon  can  not  understand,  but  yet  such 
portions  carry  to  others  a  hidden  meaning.  I  am  directed  to 
speak  to  many  persons  besides  yourself,  and  I  can  not  meet 
those  whom  I  address  more  directly  than  I  do  tlirough  this  com- 
munication. These  pages  will  serve  to  instruct  many  people — 
people  whom  you  will  never  know,  to  whom  I  have  brought 
messages  that  will  in  secret  be  read  between  the  lines." 

"Why  not  give  it  to  such  persons?" 

"  Because  I  am  directed  to  bring  it  to  you,"  he  replied,  "  and 
you  are  required : 

"  First,  To  seal  the  manuscript,  and  place  it  in  the  inner  vault 
of  your  safe. 

"  Second,  To  draw  up  a  will,  and  provide  in  case  of  your 
death,  that  after  the  expiration  of  thirty  years  from  this  date, 
the  seals  are  to  be  broken,  and  a  limited  edition  published  in 
book  form,  by  one  you  select. 

"  Third,  An  artist  capable  of  grasping  the  conceptions  will  at 
the  proper  time  be  found,  to  whom  the  responsibility  of  illustrat- 
ing the  volume  is  to  be  entrusted,  he  receiving  credit  therefor. 
Only  himself  and  yourself  (or  your  selected  agent)  are  to 
presume  to  select  the  subjects  for  illustration. 

"  Fourth,  In  case  you  are  in  this  city,  upon  the  expiration  of 
thirty  years,  you  are  to  open  the  package  and  follow  the  direc- 
tions given  in  the  envelope  therein." 

And  he  then  placed  on  the  manuscript  a  sealed  envelope 
addressed  to  myself. 

"This  I  have  promised  already,"  I  said. 

"Very  well,"  he  remarked,  "I  will  bid  you  farewell." 

"Wait  a  moment;  it  is  unjust  to  leave  the  narrative  thus 
uncompleted.  You  have  been  promised  a  future  in  comparison 
with  which  the  experiences  you  have  undergone,  and  have 
related  to  me,  were  tame ;  you  had  just  met  on  the  edge  of  the 
inner  circle  that  mysterious  being  concerning  whom  I  am 
deeply  interested,  as  I  am  in  the  continuation  of  your  personal 
narrative,  and  you  have  evidently  more  to  relate,  for  3'ou  must 
have  passed  into  that  Unknown  Country.    You  claim  to  have 


THK  IvAST  IWRRWKLL.  355 

done  so,  but  you  break  the  thread  in  the  most  attractive  part 
by  leaving  the  future  to  conjecture." 

"  It  must  be  so.  This  is  a  history  of  man  on  Earth,  the  con- 
tinuation will  be  a  history  of  man  within  the  Unknown  Country." 

"And  I  am  not  to  receive  the  remainder  of  your  story?"  I 
reiterated,  still  loth  to  give  it  up. 

"  No ;  I  shall  not  appear  directly  to  you  again.  Your  part  in 
this  work  will  have  ended  when,  after  thirty  years,  you  carry 
out  the  directions  given  in  the  sealed  letter  which,  with  this 
manuscript,  I  entrust  to  your  care.  I  must  return  now  to  the 
shore  that  separated  me  from  my  former  guide,  and  having  again, 
laid  down  this  semblance  of  a  body,  go  once  more  into" — 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed.  Yes;  this 
strange,  cynical  being  whom  I  had  at  first  considered  an  imper- 
tinent fanatic,  and  then,  more  than  once  afterward,  had  been 
induced  to  view  as  a  cunning  impostor,  or  to  fear  as  a  cold, 
semi-mortal,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"  It  is  too  much,"  he  said,  seemingly  speaking  to  himself; 
"  too  much  to  require  of  one  not  yet  immortal,  for  the  good  of 
his  race.  I  am  again  with  men,  nearly  a  human,  and  I  long  to 
go  back  once  more  to  my  old  home,  my  wife,  my  children.  Wliy 
am  I  forbidden?  The  sweets  of  Paradise  can  not  comfort  the 
mortal  who  must  give  up  his  home  and  family,  and  yet  carry  his 
earth-thought  beyond.  Man  can  not  possess  unalloyed  joys,  and 
blessings  spiritual,  and  retain  one  backward  longing  for  mundane 
subjects,  and  I  now  yearn  again  for  my  earth  love,  my  material 
family.  Having  tasted  of  semi-celestial  pleasures  in  one  of  the 
mansions  of  that  complacent,  pure,  and  restful  sphere,  I  now 
exist  in  the  border  land,  but  my  earth  home  is  not  relinquished, 
I  cling  as  a  mortal  to  former  scenes,  and  crave  to  m&et  my  lost 
loved  ones.  All  of  earth  must  be  left  behind  if  Paradise  is  ever 
wholly  gained,  yet  I  have  still  my  sublunary  thoughts. 

"Etidorhpa!  Etidorhpa!"  he  pleaded,  turning  his  eyes  as  if 
towards  one  I  could  not  see,  "  Etidorhpa,  my  old  home  calls. 
Thou  knowest  that  the  beginning  of  man  on  earth  is  a  cry  born 
of  love,  and  the  end  of  man  on  earth  is  a  cry  for  love ;  love  is  a 
gift  of  Etidorhpa,  and  thou,  Etidorhpa,  the  soul  of  love,  should 
have  compassion  on  a  pleading  mortal." 

He  raised  his  hands  in  supplication. 


356  ETIDORHPA. 

"  Have  mercy  on  me,  Etidorlipa,  as  I  would  on  yon  if  you 
were  I  and  I  were  Etidorhpa." 

Then  with  upturned  face  he  stood  long  and  silent,  listening. 

"Ah,"  he  murmured  at  last,  as  if  in  reply  to  a  voice  I  could 
not  catch,  a  voice  that  carried  to  his  ear  an  answer  of  deep  dis- 
appointment) "thou  spokest  truly  in  the  vision,  Etidorhpa:  it 
is  love  that  enslaves  mankind;  love  that  commands;  love  that 
ensnares  and  rules  mankind,  and  thou,  Etidorhpa,  art  the  soul 
of  Love.  True  it  is  that  were  there  no  Etidorhpa,  there  would 
still  be  tears  on  earth,  but  the  cold,  meaningless  tears  of  pain 
only.  No  mourning  people,  no  sorrowful  partings,  no  sobbing 
mothers  knfeeling  with  upturned  faces,  no  planting  of  the  myrtle 
and  the  rose  on  sacred  graves.  There  would  be  no  child-love,  no 
home,  no  tomb,  no  sorrow,  no  Beyond" — 

He  hesitated,  sank  upon  his  knees,  pleadingly  raised  his 
clasped  hands  and  seemed  to  listen  to  that  far-off  voice,  then 
bowed  his  head,  and  answered : 

"  Yes ;  thou  art  right,  Etidorhpa — although  thou  bringest  sor- 
row to  mortals,  without  thee  and  this  sorrow-gift  there  could  be 
no  bright  hereafter.  Thou  art  just,  Etidorhpa,  and  always  wise. 
Love  is  the  seed,  and  sorrow  is  the  harvest,  but  this  harvest  of 
sadness  is  to  man  the  richest  gift  of  love,  the  golden  link  that 
joins  the  spirit  form  that  has  fled  to  the  spirit  that  is  still 
-enthralled  on  earth.  Were  there  no  earth-love,  there  could  be 
no  heart-sorrow ;  were  there  no  craving  for  loved  ones  gone,  the 
soul  of  man  would  rest  forever  a  brother  of  the  clod.  He  who 
has  sorrowed  and  not  profited  by  his  sorrow-lesson,  is  unfitted 
for  life.  He  who  heeds  best  his  sorrow-teacher  is  in  closest 
touch  with  humanity,  and  nearest  to  Etidorhpa.  She  who  has 
drank  most  deeply  of  sorrow's  cup  has  best  fitted  herself  for 
woman's  sphere  in  life,  and  a  final  home  of  immortal  bliss.  I 
will  return  to  thy  realms,  Etidorhpa,  and  this  silken  strand  of 
sorrow  wrapped  around  my  heart,  reaching  from  earth  to  Para- 
dise and  back  to  earth,  will  guide  at  last  my  loved  ones  to  the 
realms  beyond — the  home  of  Etidorhpa." 

Rising,  turning  to  me,  and  subduing  his  emotion,  ignoring 
this  outburst,  he  said  : 

"  If  time  should  convince  you  that  I  have  related  a  faithful 
history,  if  in  after  years  you  come  to  learn  my  name  (I   ha\'e 


"l  STOOD  ALONE    IN    MY  ROOM    HOLDING  THE   MYSTERIOUS 
MANUSCRIPT." 


THE  IvAST  FAREWELL.  359 

been  forbidden  to  speak  it),  and  are  convinced  of  my  identity, 
promise  me  that  yon  will  do  yonr  nnbidden  gnest  a  favor." 

"This  I  will  surely  do;  what  shall  it  be?" 

"  I  left  a  wife,  a  little  babe,  and  a  two-year-old  child  when  I 
was  taken  away,  abducted  in  the  manner  that  I  have  faithfully 
recorded.  In  my  subsequent  experience  I  have  not  been  able  to 
cast  them  from  my  memory.  I  know  that  through  my  error 
they  have  been  lost  to  me,  and  will  be  until  they  change  to  the 
spirit,  after  which  we  will  meet  again  in  one  of  the  waiting  Man- 
sions of  the  Great  Beyond.  I  beg  you  to  ascertain,  if  possible, 
if  either  my  children,  or  my  children's  children  live,  and  should 
they  be  in  want,  present  them  with  a  substantial  testimonial. 
Now,  farewell." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  I  grasped  it,  and  as  I  did  so,  his  form 
became  indistinct,  and  gradually  disappeared  from  my  gaze,  the 
fingers  of  my  hand  met  the  palm  in  vacancy,  and  with  extended 
arms  I  stood  alone  in  my  room,  holding  the  mysterious  manu- 
script, on  the  back  of  which  I  find  plainly  engrossed  : 

"  There  are  more  thin.tjs  in  Heaven  and  Earth,  Horatio, 
Thau  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy." 


ERILOaUE. 


LETTER  ACCOMPANYING  THE  MYSTERIOUS  MANUSCRIPT. 

The  allotted  thirty  years  have  passed,  and  as  directed,  I, 
Llewellyn  Drury,  now  break  the  seals,  and  open  the  envelope 
accompanying  the  mysterious  package  which  was  left  in  my  hand, 
and  read  as  follows : 

Herein  find  the  epilogue  to  your  manuscript.  Also  a  picture 
of  your  unwelcome  guest,  I — Am — The — ]\Ian,  which  you  are 
directed  to  have  engraved,  and  to  use  as  a  frontispiece  to  the 
volume.  There  are  men  yet  living  to  bear  witness  to  my  identity, 
who  will  need  but  this  picture  to  convince  them  of  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  statements  in  the  manuscript,  as  it  is  the  face  of  one 
they  knew  when  he  was  a  young  man,  and  will  recognize  now 
that  he  is  in  age.  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  the  reception 
of  the  work,  for  you  are  in  no  wise  responsible  for  its  statements. 
Interested  persons,  if  living,  will  not  care  to  appear  in  public  in 
connection  therewith,  and  those  who  grasp  and  appreciate,  who 
can  see  the  pertinence  of  its  truths,  who  can  read  between  the 
lines  and  have  the  key  to  connected  conditions,  will  assuredly 
keep  their  knowledge  of  these  facts  locked  in  their  own  bosoms, 
or  insidiously  oppose  them,  and  by  their  silence  or  their  attacks 
cover  from  men  outside  the  fraternity,  their  connection  with  the 
unfortunate  author.     They  dare  not  speak. 

Revise  the  sentences ;  secure  the  services  of  an  editor  if  }ou 
desire,  and  induce  another  to  publish  the  book  if  you  shrink 
from  the  responsibility,  but  in  your  revision  do  not  in  any  way 
alter  the  meaning  of  the  statements  made  in  the  manuscript ; 
have  it  copied  for  the  printer,  and  take  no  part  in  comments  that 
may  arise  among  men  concerning  its  reception.  '^    Those  who  are 

'■'From  a  review  of  the  fac  simile    see  p.  35  .  it  will  be  seen  that  an  exact  print  word  for 
word  coiild  not  be  expected.     In  more  than  one  instance  subsequent  study  demonstrated  that 
the  first  couception  was  erroneous,  and  in  the  interview  with  Etidorhpa  (see  p.  252^  after  the 
360 


EPILOGUE.  361 

best  informed  regarding  certain  portions  thereof,  will  seemingly 
be  least  interested  in  the  book,  and  those  who  realize  most  fully 
these  truths,  will  persistently  evade  the  endorsement  of  them. 
The  scientific  enthusiast,  like  the  fraternity  to  which  I  belong,  if 
appealed  to,  will  obstruct  the  mind  of  the  student  either  by  criti- 
cism or  ridicule,  for  many  of  these  revelations  are  not  recorded 
in  his  books. 

You  are  at  liberty  to  give  in  your  own  language  as  a  prologue 
the  history  of  your  connection  with  the  author,  reserving, 
however,  if  you  desire  to  do  so,  your  personality,  adding  an  intro- 
duction to  the  manuscript,  and,  as  interludes,  every  detail  of  our 
several  conversations,  and  of  your  experience.  Introduce  such 
illustrations  as  the  selected  artist  and  yourself  think  proper  in 
order  to  illuminate  the  statements.  Do  not  question  the  advis- 
ability of  stating  all  that  you  know  to  have  occurred ;  write  the 
wdiole  truth,  for  although  mankind  will  not  now  accept  as  fact 
all  that  you  and  I  have  experienced,  strange  phases  of  life 
phenomena  are  revealing  themselves,  and  humanity  will  yet 
surely  be  led  to  a  higher  plane.  As  men  investigate  the  points  of 
historical  interest,  and  the  ultra-scientific  phenomena  broached 
in  this  narrative,  the  curtain  of  obscurity  will  be  drawn  aside, 
and  evidence  of  the  truths  contained  in  these  details  will  be 
disclosed.  Finally,  you  must  mutilate  a  page  of  the  manuscript 
that  you  may  select,  and  preserve  the  fragment  intact  and  in 
secret.  Do  not  print  another  edition  unless  you  are  presented 
with  the  words  of  the  part  that  is  missing.  * 

(Signed.)         I— Am— The— Man. 

Note  by  Mr.  Drury. — Thus  the  letter  ended.  After  mature 
consideration  it  has  been  decided  to  give  verbatim  most  of  the 
letter,  and  all  of  the  manuscript,  and  to  append,  as  a  prologue,  au 
introduction  to  the  manuscript,  detailing  exactly  the  record  of  my 
connection  therewith,  including  my  arguments  with  Professors 
Chickering  and  Vaughn,  whom  I  consulted  concerning  the  state- 
ments made  to  me  directly  by  its  author.  I  will  admit  that 
perhaps  the  opening  chapter  in  my  introduction  may  be  such  as 

page  had  been  plated,  it  was  dLscovered  that  the  conveyed  meaning  was  exactly  the  reverse  of 
the  original.     Luckily  the  error  was  discovered  in   time  to  change  the  verse,  and   leave  the 
spirit  of  this  fair  creature  unblemished. — J.  U.  L. 
'•'I  have  excised  a  portion  'see  p.  190). — ^J.  U.  L. 


362  ETIDORHPA. 

to  raise  in  the  minds  of  some  persons  a  question  concerning  my 
mental  responsibility,  for  as  the  principal  personage  in  this  drama 
remarks:  "Mankind  can  not  now  accept  as  facts  what  I  have 
seen."  Yet  I  walk  the  streets  of  my  native  city,  a  business  man 
of  recognized,  thoughtfulness  and  sobriety,  and  I  only  relate  on 
my  own  responsibility  what  has  to  my  knowledge  occurred.  It 
has  never  been  intimated  that  I  am  mentally  irresponsible,  or 
speculative,  and  even  were  this  the  case,  the  material  proof  that 
I  hold,  and  have  not  mentioned  as  yet,  and  may  not,  concerning 
my  relations  with  this  remarkable  being,  effectually  disproves 
the  idea  of  mental  aberration,  or  spectral  delusion.  Besides, 
many  of  the  statements  are  of  such  a  nature  as  to  be  verified 
easily,  or  disproved  by  any  person  who  may  be  inclined  to  repeat 
the  experiments  suggested,  or  visit  the  localities  mentioned.  The 
part  of  the  whole  production  that  will  seem  the  most  improbable 
to  the  majority  of  persons,  is  that  to  which  I  can  testify  from  my 
own  knowledge,  as  related  in  the  first  portion  and  the  closing 
chapter.  This  approaches  necromancy,  seemingly,  and  yet  in  my 
opinion,  as  I  now  see  the  matter,  such  unexplained  and  recondite 
occurrences  appear  unscientific,  because  of  the  shortcomings  of 
students  of  science.  Occult  phenomena,  at  some  future  day, 
will  be  proved  to  be  based  on  ordinary  physical  conditions  to  be 
disclosed  by  scientific  investigations  [for  "  All  that  is  is  natural, 
and  science  embraces  all  things  "],  but  at  present  they  are  beyond 
our  perception ;  yes,  beyond  our  conception. 

Whether  I  have  been  mesmerized,  or  have  written  in  a 
trance,  whether  I  have  been  the  subject  of  mental  aberration,  or 
have  faithfully  given  a  life  history  to  the  world,  whether  this  book 
is  altogether  romance,  or  carries  a  vein  of  prophecy,  whether  it 
sets  in  motion  a  train  of  wild  speculations,  or  combines  playful 
arguments,  science  problems,  and  metaphysical  reasonings,  useful 
as  well  as  entertaining,  remains  for  the  reader  to  determine.  So 
far  as  I,  Llewellyn  Drury,  am  concerned,  this  is — 

THE    END. 


/w-t--^ 


'^^dLv-^-^-v^-r. 


Oy^flZy^j  -^^^  .^^-^  *.:.>e^  .^-ZTcJe^  ^ . 

H^^^'A-^   /^.c^^t^e  /V-^^-t  /^--'-^^^fw^'t^'y''-^--^^^-^  /-^T 


Had  the  above  communication  and  the  missing  fragment  of  manuscript  been  withheld 
(see  page  i6i),  it  is  needless  to  say  that  this  second  edition  of  Etidorhpa  would  not  have  ap- 
peared. 

On  behalf  of  the  undersigned,  who  is  being  most  liberally  scolded  by  friends  and  acquain- 
tances who  can  not  get  a  copy  of  the  first  edition,  and  on  behalf  of  these  same  scolding 
mortals,  the  undersigned  extends  to  I-Am-The-Man  the  collective  thanks  of  those  who  scold 
and  the  scolded. — J.  U.  L. 


0»v£_  i^Kik^^^  \MS~-  <yp^^JL'<^  a^AjA^  t^m^  l44a|Ca)L 


t*iA5  -t'  l^^ciC.^  —    $^l«<miU4^'M<^^»^  'Hoc 

|«4j^«^yC7  ^jBHc't*!^  HM>H>fC   15 -Jo€iLe*A/~ - 

uJL^  V-*^  /Vf  v$^ 


This  introduction,  which  in  the  author's  edition  was  signed  by  the  writer,  is  here  re- 
printed in  order  that  my  views  of  the  book  be  not  misconstrued— J.  U.  L. 


ETIDORHPA. 


To  THE  RECIPIENTS  OF  THE  AUTHOR'S  EDITION  OF  ETIDORHPA: 

That  so  large  an  edition  as  1,299  copies  of  an  expensive  book,  previously 
unseen  by  any  subscriber,  should  have  been  taken  in  advance  by  reason  of  a 
mere  announcement,  is  complimentary  to  the  undersigned;  and  yet  this  very 
confidence  occasioned  him  not  a  little  anxiety.  Under  such  circumstances 
to  have  failed  to  give,  either  in  workmanship  or  subject-matter,  more  than 
was  promised  in  the  announcement  of  Etidorhpa,  would  have  been  painfully 
embarrassing. 

Not  without  deep  concern,  then,  were  the  returns  awaited ;  for,  while  neither 
pains  nor  expense  were  spared  to  make  the  book  artistically  a  prize,  still,  beau- 
tiful workmanship  and  attractive  illustrations  may  serve  but  to  make  more 
conspicuous  other  failings.  Humiliating  indeed  would  it  have  been  had  the 
recipients,  in  a  spirit  of  charity,  spoken  only  of  artistic  merit  and  neat 
bookwork. 

When  one  not  a  bookman  publishes  a  book,  he  treads  the  danger-line. 
When  such  a  person,  without  a  great  publishing-house  behind  him,  issues  a 
book  like  Etidorhpa— a  book  that,  spanning  space,  seemingly  embraces  wild 
imaginings  and  speculation,  and  intrudes  on  science  and  religion — he  invites 
personal  disaster. 

That  in  the  case  of  the  Author's  Edition  of  Etidorhpa  the  reverse  happily 
followed,  is  evidenced  by  hundreds  of  complimentary  letters,  written  by  men 
versed  in  this  or  that  section  wherein  the  book  intrudes ;  and  in  a  general  way 
the  undersigned  herein  gratefully  extends  his  thanks  to  all  correspondents — 
thanks  for  the  cordial  expressions  of  approval,  and  for  the  graceful  oversights 
by  critics  and  correspondents,  that  none  better  than  he  realizes  have  been  ex- 
tended towards  blemishes  that  must,  to  others,  be  not  less  apparent  than  they 
are  to  himself. 

Since  general  interest  has  been  awakened  in  the  strange  book  Etidorhpa, 
and  as  many  readers  are  soliciting  information  concerning  its  reception,  it  is 
not  only  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  pleasure,  that  the  undersigned  reproduces  the  fol- 
lowing abstracts  from  public  print  concerning  the  Author's  Edition,  adding, 
that  as  in  most  cases  the  reviews  were  of  great  length  and  made  by  men  spe- 
cially selected  for  the  purpose,  the  brief  notes  are  but  fragments  and  simply 
characteristic  of  their  general  tenor. 

The  personal  references  indulged  by  the  critics  could  not  be  excised  with- 
out destroying  the  value  of  the  criticisms,  and  the  undersigned  can  offer  no 
other  apology  for  their  introduction  than  to  say  that  to  have  excluded  them 
would  have  done  an  injustice  to  the  writers. 

Respectfully, 

JOHN  URI  LLOYD. 


ETIDORHPA  AS  A  WORK  OF  ART. 


Professor  S.  W.  Williams,  Wyoming,  Ohio. 


If  a  fine  statue  or  a  stately  cathedral  is  a  poem  in  marble,  a 
masterpiece  of  the  printer's  art  ma}-  be  called  a  poem  in  typog- 
raphy. Such  is  Etidorhpa.  In  its  paper,  composition,  press- 
work,  illustrations,  and  binding — it  is  the  perfection  of  beauty. 
While  there  is  nothing  gaudy  in  its  outward  appearance,  there  is 
throughout  a  display  of  good  taste.  The  simplicity  of  its  neat- 
ness, like  that  of  a  handsome  woman,  is  its  great  charm.  Ele- 
gance does  not  consist  in  show  nor  wealth  in  glitter ;  so  the 
richest  as  well  as  the  costliest  garb  may  be  rich  in  its  very 
plainness.  The  illustrations  were  drawn  and  engraved  expresslj' 
for  this  work,  and  consist  of  twenty-one  full-page,  half-tone 
cuts,  and  over  thirty  half-page  and  text  cuts,  besides  two  photo- 
gravures. The  best  artistic  skill  was  emplo3'ed  to  produce  them, 
and  the  printing  was  carefully  attended  to,  so  as  to  secure  the 
finest  effect.  Only  enameled  book  paper  is  used ;  and  this,  with 
the  wide  margins,  gilt  top,  trimmed  edges,  and  clear  impressions 
of  the  type,  makes  the  pages  restful  to  the  eyes  in  reading  or 
looking  at  them.  The  jacket,  or  cover,  which  protects  the  bind- 
ing, is  of  heavy  paper,  and  bears  the  same  imprint  as  the  book 
itself.  Altogether,  as  an  elegant  specimen  of  the  bookmakers' 
art  it  is  a  credit  to  the  trade.  All  honor  to  the  compositors  who 
set  the  type,  the  artists  who  drew  and  engraved  the  illustrations, 
the  electrotyper  who  put  the  forms  into  plate,  the  pressman  who 
worked  off  the  sheets,  and  the  binder  who  gathered  and  bound 
them  in  this  volume. 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 


The  End  of  the  Earth  is  not  like  any  other  book.  The  charm  of  ad- 
venture, the  excitement  of  romance,  fhe  stimulating  heat  of  controversy, 
the  keen  pursuit  of  scientific  truth,  the  glow  of  moral  enthusiasm,  are  all 
found  in  its  pages.  The  book  may  be  described  as  a  sort  ProfessorW.  H.  Ven- 
of  philosophical  fiction,  containing  much  exact  scientific  ^'''^'  Cincinnati. 
truth,  man}-  bold  theories,  and  much  ingenious  speculation  on  the  nature 
and  destiny  of  man.  .  .  .  The  occult  and  esoteric  character  of  the  dis- 
cussions, adds  a  strange  fascination  to  them.  We  can  hardly  classify,  bj- 
ordinar}^  rules,  a  work  so  unusual  in  form  and  purpose,  so  discursive  in 
subject  matter,  so  unconventional  in  its  appeals  to  reason,  religion,  and 
morality.  .  .  .  The  direct  teaching  of  the  book,  in  so  far  as  it  aims  to 
influence  conduct,  is  always  loft}'  and  pure.  Not  a  line  seems  to  have 
been  written  with  a  frivolous  purpose.  There  is  a  Scotch  sternness  and 
severit}'  of  conscience  in  it.     .     .     . 

Four  powerful  chapters  are  devoted  to  "Human  Drinks,"  and  the 
horrible  vice  of  intoxication.  .  .  .  The  outcome  of  the  entire  com- 
position seems  to  be  to  prophesy  the  infinite  development  which  awaits 
the  application  of  better  and  truer,  and  especially  more  spiritual,  methods 
to  the  stud}^  of  science.  The  book  is  a  protest  against  materialism,  and 
a  bold,  perhaps  audacious,  venture  to  point  out  a  better  and  more  fruitful 
mode  of  interpreting  nature's  laws  in  the  world  of  matter  and  mind. 
However,  the  author  is  b}'  no  means  dogmatic ;  and  the  discursive  char- 
acter of  the  narrative  gives  scope  for  ample  play  of  mind  in  the  fields  of 
fact  and  fancy.  The  character  of  the  performance  leaves  us  in  doubt  as 
to  where  experience  ends  and  imagination  begins.  The  work  is  con- 
structed with  rare  ingenuit}',  and  is  extremely  readable   and  fascinating. 

The  style  of  Etidorhpa  is  simple  and  direct.  The  descriptive  parts 
are  verj-  vivid  and  realistic.  .  .  .  The  reader  is  hurried  on  from  page 
to  page  by  the  evident  enthusiasm  and  ardor  of  the  writer.  The  char- 
acters and  incidents  of  the  story  are  constantly  presenting  new  and  un- 
expected phases  and  situations.  The  marvelous  portions  of  the  book 
give  relief  to  the  normal  and  serious  parts.  Altogether  the  work  is  in- 
structive, stimulating,  eccentric,  and  amusing.  Some  passages  are 
strongly  pathetic,  others  humorous.  We  are  disposed  to  conclude  that 
in  this  production  we  have  many  of  the  positive  beliefs,  many  conjec- 
tures, and  some  half-playful  hypotheses,  of  a  thinking  student,  well  read  in 
general  science,  and  profoundly  desirous  of  aiding  the  truth  and  promot- 
ing the  happiness  of  society. 

369 


370  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDOKHPA. 

The  thought  of  the  world  moves  penduhnn-like,  oscillating  between 
extreme  materialism  on  one  hand  and  the  most  pronounced  idealism  on 
the  other.  The  Ilu.xleyan  school  of  philosophy  reached  the  acme  of  ma- 
American  Druggist  terialism  in  the  enunciation  of  the  dogma,  "  I  believe 
and  Pharmaceutical  what  I  see  and  feel;"  and  while  this  doctrine  has 
Record.  New  York,  rapidly  gained  acceptance,  there  are  visible  evidences 
that  the  pendulum  of  thought  and  belief  has  begun  to  swing  backward 
toward  the  idealism  which  found  so  extreme  an  advocate  in  the  person 
of  Hegel.  The  work  under  review  is  of  itself  an  indication  of  this  tend- 
ency toward  the  higher  idealism  on  the  part  of  the  scientific  world.  .  .  . 
It  is  readily  apparent  that  Profes.sor  Lloyd  has  availed  himself  of  the 
romance  form  merely  as  a  means  ^f  exploiting  tentatively  philo.sophical 
theories  and  speculations,  which,  a.s  yet,  he  is  not  prepared  to  openl3' 
indorse,  and  which,  indeed,  he  himself  has  probably  not  yet  accepted.  .  .  . 

The  work  is  creditable  alike  to  the  literarj-  ingenuity  of  the  author, 
to  his  imagination,  and  to  his  scientific  ability;  for  whatever  errors  of 
reasoning,  or  of  premises,  or  of  conclusion  there  may  be,  they  are  so 
skillfully  concealed  as  to  almost  lead  one  to  look  upon  the  wonders  por- 
trayed as  at  least  among  the  po.ssibilities. 

From  a  mechanical  point  of  view  the  work  leaves  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired, being  well  and  copiously  illustrated,  admirably  printed  on  fine 
plate  paper,  with  ample  margins  and  handsomely  bound. 

From  the  very  inception  of  letters  and  in  ever}-  era  of  literature,  no 
truths  have  been  so  well  told,  no  morals  so  forcibly  advocated,  and  no  re- 
searches in  material  or  psychical  philo.sophy  so  clearly  impressed,  as 
Notes  on  New  Phar-  ^^^^eu  clothed  in  the  garb  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Modern 
maceuticai  Products,  literature  has  in  many  instances  furnished  additional 
■     ""'*■  evidences  of  this   fact,  and   under  the  fascinating  dress 

of  romance,  the  most  effectual  work  in  humanitarian  and  civilizing  growth 
has  been  effected.  .  .  .  So,  too,  in  scientific  teachings.  From  all 
time  ardent  workers  and  patient  investigators  have  given  to  us  the  re- 
sults of  their  labors,  the  histories  of  their  success,  the  records  of  their 
failures.     .     .     . 

These  reflections  are  particularly-  pertinent  to  a  new  publication  whic!i 
has  been  laid  upon  our  table.  Etidorhpa,  the  End  of  the  Earth,  by  Pro- 
fessor John  Uri  Lloyd,  of  Cincinnati,  is  a  work  of  such  peculiar  character 
and  so  unique  in  conception,  that  while,  under  the  guise  of  a  never-failing 
chain  of  romantic  conception,  the  author  covers  a  vast  range  of  scientific, 
moral,  and  theosophic  discussion,  the  interest  is  never  wearied,  nor  is  its 
reading  laborious.  .  .  .  The  illustrations  are  pointed,  and  marked  for 
artistic  excellence.  The  book  is  the  literary  novelty  of  the  year;  but  those 
interested  in  such  lines  of  thought  will  forget  its  novelties  in  a  profound 
interest  in  the  themes  di.scussed. 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  371 

No  one  could  have  written  the  chapter  on  the  "  Food  of  Man  "  but 
Professor  Lloyd ;  no  one  else  knows  and  thinks  of  these  subjects  in  a 
similar  way.  .  .  .  The  "old  man's"  description  of  "  the  spirit  of 
stone,"  "the  spirit  of  plants,"  and,  finally,  "the  spirit  of  Eclectic  Medical 
man,"  is  very  fine,  but  those  who  hear  Professor  Lloyd  Journal,  Cincinnati. 
lecture  catch  Lloyd's  impulses  throughout.  The  only  regret  one  has  in 
reading  this  entrancing  work  is,  that  it  ends  unexpectedly,  for  the  End 
of  Earth  comes  without  a  catastrophe.  It  should  have  been  a  hundred 
pages  longer ;  the  reader  yearns  for  more,  and  closes  the  book  wistfully.  .  .  . 

Professor  Lloyd  must  be  prevailed  upon  to  issue  another  limited,  but 
less  elaborate,  edition  of  Etidorhpa.  Many  who  did  not  subscribe  to  this 
edition,  and  who  had  not  the  opportunity  to  do  so,  will  be  only  too  glad 
to  procure  a  copy  of  the  most  interesting,  as  well  as  instructive,  romance 
of  the  century. 

The  End  of  the  Earth  is  a  scientific  allegory.    It  is  destined  to  occupy 
a  place  in  the  domain  of  science  similar  to  that  occupied  by  Bunyan's  Pil- 
grim's Progress  in  the  world   of  religion.     It  is  in  har-   California  Medical 
mony  with  truth  and  broad  enlightenment,  and  will  find   Journal,  5an  Fran= 
friends  in  all  sects,  schools  of  philosophy,  and  systems  of  '^'^'^"• 
belief.    We  sincerely  trust  that  when  the  public  begins  to  clamor  for  more, 
which  will  surely  happen  as  soon  as  the  first  small  edition  is  distributed, 
the  author  will  relent  and  allow  the  supply  to  equal  the  demand.  •    .     .     . 
The  author  has  wrought  for  himself  an  enduring  monument,  and  w^e  can 
not  forbear  to  repeat  the  wish  that  another  edition  may  speedily  follow. 

There  has  never  been  any  book  like  this  one  written.     If  it  be  said  to 
resemble  some  of  Jules  Verne's  works,  the  distinction  may  be  drawn  that 
Etidorhpa  is  logical.    No  miracles  were  performed  to  extricate  the  traveler 
from  the  numerous  perilous  positions  in  which  he  found   American  Journal  of 
himself,  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  always  released  by   Pharmacy,  Philadei- 
what  appeared   to  be   perfectly  rational   methods.     The   "'"*• 
ph3-sical  phenomena  described  are  apparently  without  a  flaw,  and  some 
new   principles,  notably  the    diffusion    of  liquids    of  different   densities 
through  porous  media,  are  enunciated,  and  will  stand  the  test  of  actual 
experiment,  as  the  writer  of  this  review  knows  from  having  tried  them. 
The  chemistry  of  the  work  is  faultless — so  different  from  that  to  which  we 
are  treated  by  most  literarj-  writers,  who  usually  disgust  one  with  their 
bad  nomenclature  and  impossible  chemical  reactions. 

The  subjects  treated  are  such  as  require  the  most  careful  handling, 
for  many  of  them  border  on  the  unknowable,  and  it  is  onl}^  by  the  most 
acute  reasoning  that  the  author  prevents  the  story  from  becoming  "top- 
heavy;"  but  he  has  succeeded  by  the  most  plausible  methods.  Material- 
ists will  derive  little  consolation  from  the  book,  and  spiritualists  will  find 


372  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

but  little  more  comfort;  for  both  are  treated  to  a  mild  vein  of  sarcasm, 
that  is  all  the  more  searching  because  of  its  freedom  from  bitterness. 

The  author  has  ventured  to  discuss  many  things  which  few  writers  in 
the  past  have  dared  to  undertake.  We  are  told  that  "matter  is  retarded 
motion,  "  and  this  is  demonstrated  by  the  most  acute  process  of  reasoning. 
He  also  dares  to  denounce  the  hypothetical  ether  which  scientists  have  in- 
vented to  account  for  the  transmission  of  heat,  light,  etc.,  and  declares 
there  is  no  need  for  it.  It  is  impo.ssible,  in  a  review,  to  give  the  details  of 
how  these  ends  are  attained;  but  the  book  itself  must  be  studiou.sly  read, 
not  once,  but  twice  or  thrice.  The  vivid  description  of  the  Drunkard's 
Den,  and  the  masterly  portrayal  of  the  effects  of  certain  narcotics,  are  the 
products  from  a  writer  of  extraordinary  resources.     .     .     . 

The  author  is  at  once  a  scientist  and  a  philosopher ;  he  has  also 
shown  himself  to  be  a  master  of  a  peculiarly  beautiful  literary  style, 
which,  in  some  chapters,  may  be  termed  word-painting  of  the  highest 
order.     In  fact,  the  book  is  full  of  figurative  gems. 

The  fascinating  plot,  replete  with  striking  situations  and  dramatic 
scenes,  rapid  in  its  movement  and  abounding  in  incident,  is  to  the 
thoughtful  reader  but  the  vehicle  chosen  by  a  full  mind  for  conveying  a 
Bulletin  of  Pliar=  rich  freight  of  knowledge  and  meditation.  Every  branch 
macy,  Detroit.  of  chemical  and  biologic  science  is  at  the  author's  com- 
mand, and  on  every  page  is  evidence  of  an  earnest  and  solemn  concep- 
tion of  life  as  a  great  mystery  constantly  eluding  the  hypotheses  and  re- 
searches of  science.  The  titular  author  is,  of  course,  a  literary  shadow : 
the  work  is  the  unmistakable  handiwork  of  Professor  Lloyd — the  offspring 
of  his  imagination,  study,  and  reflection,  conceived  during  the  hours 
spent  by  a  cultivated  man   amid  a  varied  and  extensive   library.     .     .     . 

Social,  scientific,  ethical,  and  religious  problems  receive  lofty  treat- 
ment throughout  the  work ;  and  the  original  yet  reverent  views  of  the 
author  on  these  important  subjects  impart  to  Etidorhpa  its  chiefest 
weight. 

The  illustrations  by  J.  Augustus  Knapp  are  superb,  and  the  typog- 
raphy of  the  work  represents  the  art  of  book-making  in  its  perfection. 

This  book,  to  use  the  words  of  the  editor  of  the  Chicago  Inter-Ocean, 
is  "the  literary  novelty  of  the  year."  .  .  .  In  a  literary  sense,  accord- 
^.    .      .■  C4   4    ^     i"&  to  all  reviewers,  it  abounds  with  "word-paintings  of 

Cincinnati  Student.         ^  '  . 

the  highest  order  " — in  some  chapters  being  "  terrible  " 
in  its  vividness,  several  critics  asserting  that  Dante's  Inferno  has  noth- 
ing more  realistic.     .     .     . 

Petitions  are  being  circulated,  asking  Professor  lyloyd  to  issue  a  com- 
mercial edition  at  a  price  not  to  exceed  $2,  in  order  that  all  who  desire 
may  have  an  opportunity  to  study  its  contents. 


REVIEWvS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  373 

One  of  the  great  charms  of  the  book  is  the  space  between  the  lines, 
which  only  the  initiated  can  thoroughly  comprehend.  Don't  fail  to  read 
and  re-read  Etidorhpa.  Be  sure  and  read  it  in  the  light  ^^^  ^^^^  Detroit. 
of  contemporaneous  literature,  for  without  doing  so,  its 
true  beauty  will  not  appear.  Aside  from  its  subject  matter,  the  excellency 
of  the  workmanship  displayed  by  the  printer,  and  artistic  beauty  of  the 
illustrations,  will  make  Etidorhpa  an  ornament  to  any  library. 

We  have  read  it  with  absorbed  interest,  the  vividly-depicted  scenes 
of  each  stage  in  the  miraculous  journey  forming  a  theme  which  enthralls 
the  reader  till  the  last  page  is  turned.     Many  new  views  j^^  British  and  Co> 
of   natural    laws  are  given   by  the   communicator,    and    lonial  Druggist,  Lon- 
argued    between  him  and  Drury,  into  which,  and   into    **""'  England. 
the  ultimate  intent  of  Etidorhpa  we  will   not  attempt  to  enter,  but  will 
leave  it  for  each  reader  to  peruse,  and  draw  his  own  conclusions.     .     .     . 

Professor  Lloyd's  style  is  quaint  and  polished,  and  perfectly  clear. 
The  printing  and  paper  are  all  that  can  be  desired,  and  an  abundance  of 
artistic  and  striking  illustrations  are  admirably  reproduced. 

The  literary  excellence  of  the  work  is  of  very  high  order,  and  through 
it  all,  devSpite  the  visionary  nature  of  the  environment,  is  an  evident 
earnestness  and  a  bold  treatment  of  the  theories,  beliefs,  and  speculations 
of  science.  It  is  the  work  of  a  keen  mind  and  a  great  Every  Saturday, 
nature,  which  had  delved  deep,  and  has  had  the  poise  Elgin,  lit. 
and  the  breadth  to  comprehend,  as  well  as  a  remarkable  facility  in  ex- 
pounding the  truths  of  science;  and  over  it  all  is  the  spirit  of  Aphrodite, 
permeating  the  story  with  the  atmosphere  of  love  for  mankind.  Eti- 
dorhpa is  unlike  anything  in  print,  and  is  entitled  to  the  marked  recog- 
nition it  is  receiving,  because  of  its  distinct  originality  of  treatment  as 
well  as  for  its  charming  incident,  its  exciting  scenes,  its  spirited  contro- 
versies, its  vast  fund  of  scientific  facts,  its  moral  stimulus,  its  poetic 
fancies,  and  its  literarj^  beauties. 

Etidorhpa.  the  End  of  the  Earth,  is  in  all  respects  the  worthiest  pre- 
sentation of  occult  teachings  under  the  attractive  guise  of  fiction  that  has 
yet  been  written.  Its  author,  Mr.  John  Uri  Lloyd,  of  Cincinnati,  as  a 
scientist  and  writer  on  pharmaceutical  topics,  has  already  ^^^  ^^^^  worid. 
a  more  than  national  reputation,  but  only  his  most  inti- 
mate friends  have  been  aware  that  he  was  an  advanced  student  of  occult- 
ism. His  book  is  charmingly  written,  some  of  its  passages  being  really 
eloquent ;  as,  for  instance,  the  apostrophe  to  Aphrodite — whose  name  is 
reversed  to  make  the  title  of  the  story.  It  has  as  thrilling  situations  and 
startling  phenomena  as  imagination  has  ever  conceived.  .    .    .   There  is  no 


374  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

confusion  between  experiences  and  illusions,  such  as  are  common  in  the 
works  of  less  instructed  and  conscientious  writers  treating  of  such  mat- 
ters. He  knows  where  to  draw  the  line  and  how  to  impress  perception  of 
it,  as  in  the  four  awful  nightmare  chapters  illustrating  the  curse  of  drink. 
Editorhpa  will  be  best  appreciated  b}-  those  who  have  "  traveled  Ea.st  in 
search  of  light  and  knowledge."  .  .  .  Mr.  Lloyd  has  published  the  book 
himself  in  magnificent  style,  with  superb  illustrations  by  J.  Augustus 
Knapp,  and  issued  it  only  in  a  semi-private  way  by  subscription,  but  should 
put  it  forth  in  a  public  edition. 

Etidorhpa,  a  name  unlike  any  we  have  ever  heard  before  or  ever  ex- 
pect to  hear  again.     The  same  is  true  of  the  volume;  if  any  literary  work 

■w,.  ^  ^  .  «  ..  was  ever  sui  p^enerzs,  unlike  anything  in  the  heavens 
The  Spatula,  Boston.  ^  >  j  o 

above  or  in  the  earth  beneath,  it  is  this  production  of 
I\Ir.  Lloyd.  It  is  much  more  eas}-  to  praise  than  to  describe  it.  The  skill- 
ful manner  in  which  fiction  and  science  are  blended  ma}',  perhaps,  remind 
the  reader  of  some  of  the  romances  of  Jules  Verne,  but  the  actual  re- 
semblance is  small,  and  there  is  nothing  to  suggest  that  the  author  is  in 
the  least  indebted  to  the  Frenchman. 

We  can  offer  the  author  the  sincerest  of  congratulations  for  having 
produced   a  book  intensely  pleasing,  interesting,  and  instructive,  a  rare 
Registered  Pharma-  blending  of   imaginative  speculation  with  natural  laws 
cist,  Chicago.  jin^}  scientific  facts.     Those  who  ma}-  have  had  a  precon- 

ceived idea  that  ISIr.  Lloyd's  book  might  conflict  with  or  offend  the 
religious  belief  of  some  will  find  themselves  happilj'  mistaken,  as  the 
tendency  is  more  in  the  direction  of  the  reconciliation  of  religious  belief 
with  natural  laws  and  the  teachings  of  science. 

It  is  as  fascinating  as  the  richest  romance  by  Dumas,  and  mysterious 
and  awe-inspiring  as  the  wild  flights  of  Verne.  Hugo  wrote  nothing 
more  impassioned  than  those  terrible  chapters  where  "The-Man-Who- 
Times-star.  Cincin-  Did-It "  drinks  liquor  from  the  mushroom  cup.  There 
"«*'•  never  was  a  book  like  it.     It  falls  partly  in  many  cla.s.ses, 

yet  lies  outside  of  all.  It  will  interest  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
and  it  has  that  in  it  which  may  make  it  popular  as  the  most  sensational 
novel  of  the  day.  Intricate  plotting,  marvelous  mysteries,  clear-cut 
science  without  empiricism,  speculative  reasoning,  sermonizing,  historical 
facts,  and  bold  theorizing  make  up  the  tissue  of  the  stor\-,  while  the  spirit 
of  Etidorhpa,  the  spirit  of  love,  pervades  it  all.     .     .     . 

Happy  is  the  scientist  who  can  present  science  in  a  form  so  inviting 
as  to  charm  not  only  the  scholars  of  his  own  profession,  but  the  laymen 
besides.     This,  Professor  John  Uri  Lloyd  has  done  in  his  Etidorhpa. 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  375 

For  eighteen  years  the  writer  has  been  seated  at  his  desk,  and  all 
kinds  of  books  have  been  passed  in  review,  but  has  never  before  met 
with  such  a  stumper  as  Etidorhpa.  Its  name  is  a  stunner,  and  its  title- 
page,  head-lines,  and  weird,  artistic  pictures  send  out  The  inter-Ocean, 
such  a  ghastly  welcome  as  to  make  goblins  on  the  walls,  Chicago, 
and  fill  the  close  room  with  spooks  and  mystery.  The  writer  has  only 
known  of  Professor  Lloyd  as  a  scientist  and  an  expert  in  the  most  occult 
art  of  the  pharmacist,  and  can  scarcely  conceive  him  in  the  role  of  the 
mystic  and  romancer  in  the  region  heretofore  sacred  to  the  tread  of  the 
supernatural.     .     .     . 

The  book  is  the  literary-  novelty  of  the  3'ear,  but  those  interested  in 
such  lines  of  thought  will  forget  its  novelties  in  a  profound  interest  in 
the  themes  discussed. 

This  magnificent  scientific  work,  dealing  with  physics,  astronomy, 
botany,  and  geolog}-,  will  create  a  sensation  in  the  world  of  thinkers.  .  .  . 
It  is  a  work  that  far  exceeds  in  imagination  anything  ever  written  by  the 
French  novelist,  and  it  will  be  for  the  higher  scientific  The  Cincinnati  Lan- 
w'orld  of  men  what  Verne's  works  have  been  for  chil-  cet=ciinic. 
dren.  In  many  respects  this  work  may  be  considered  a  keen  satire  on 
modern  science,  and  is  intensely  interesting  from  its  miraculous  begin- 
ning to  its  weird  and  uncanny  ending.     .     .     . 

The  reader  is  not  only  entranced  by  the  pen-pictures  of  the  strange 
and  beautiful,  but  likewise  instructed  in  every  branch  of  the  most  curious 
things  in  science.  No  review  will  do  justice  to  this  work,  and  to  be  ap- 
preciated it  must  be  read. 

The  work  stands  so  entirely  alone  in  literature,  and  possesses  such 
a  marvelous  versatility  of  thought  and  idea,  that,  in  describing  it,  we  are 
at  a  loss  for  comparison.  In  its  scope  it  comprises  alchemy,  chemistry, 
science  in  general,  philosophy,  metaphysics,  morals,  biol-  The  Chicago  Med- 
og3^  sociology',  theosophy,  materialism,  and  theism — the  '*^'  Times. 
natural  and  the  supernatural.  .  .  .  It  is  almost  impossible  to  describe 
the  character  of  the  work.  It  is  realistic  in  expression,  and  weird  be5^ond 
Hawthorne's  utmost  flights.  It  excels  Bulwer-Lytton's  Coming  Race  and 
Jules  Verne's  most  extreme  fanc}-.  It  equals  Dante  in  vividness  and  ec- 
centricity of  plot.     .     .     . 

The  entire  tone  of  the  work  is  elevating.  It  encourages  thought  of 
all  that  is  ennobling  and  pure.  It  teaches  a  belief  and  a  faith  in  God 
and  holj'  things,  and  shows  God's  supervision  over  all  his  works.  •  It  is 
an  allegory  of  the  life  of  one  who  desires  to  separate  himself  from  the 
debasing  influences  of  earth,  and  aspires  to  a  pure  and  noble  existence, 
as  beautiful  and  as  true  to  the  existing  conditions  of  human  life  as  Bun- 
yan's  Pilgrim's  Progress.     The  sorrow;  the  struggle  with  self;  the  phys- 


370  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

ical  burdens;  the  indescribable  temptations,  with  the  presence  and  assist- 
ance of  those  who  would  assist  in  overcoming  them;  the  dark  hours, 
Vanity  Fair,  and  the  Beulahland,  are  all  there. 

In  ever3'  respect  the  volume  bearing  the  title  Etidorhpa,  or  the  End 

of  the    Earth,  is   a  most   remarkable   book.     Typographically,  it   is  both 

unique   and  artistic — as   near  perfection   in   conception   and   execution  as 

...         ,,    ,  .    can  be  conceived.    .    .    .    The  author  is  John  Uri  Llovd, 

Indianapolis  Journal.  "^  ^     .'    > 

of  Cincinnati,  a  scientific  writer  whose  pharmaceutical 
treatises  are  widely  known  and  highly  valued.  That  a  man  whose  mind 
and  time  have  been  engrossed  with  the  affairs  of  a  specialist  and  man  of 
affairs  could  have  found  time  to  enter  the  field  of  speculation,  and  there 
display  not  onl}-  the  most  extensive  knowledge  of  the  exact  natural 
sciences,  and  refute  what  is  held  to  be  scientific  truth  with  bold  theories 
and  ingenious  speculations  on  the  nature  and  destin}-  of  man,  is  mar- 
velous.    .     .     . 

The  Addenda  is  as  original  as  the  book  itself,  consisting,  as  it  does, 
of  a  list  of  names,  some  of  whom  are  not  subscribers,  but  to  whom  the 
author  is  deeply  obliged,  or  whom  he  regards  as  ver3^  dear  friends,  and 
those  of  a  few  whom  he  personally  admires.  ...  If  each  of  them 
has  a  copy  of  Etidorhpa,  or  the  End  of  the  Earth,  he  i^ossesses  a  book 
which  is  not  like  an}-  other  book  in  the  world. 

The  many  friends  and  admirers  of  Professor  Llo3-d  will  find  much 
profit  in  turning  over  in  their  minds  the  scientific  theories  which  he  pre- 
The  Pharmaceutical  sents,  and  will  experience  the  keenest  enjoyment  in 
Era,  New  Yorii.  following  the  story  in  which  these  are  so  skillfully 
woven.  .  .  .  The  author  warns  us  against  biolog}-  and  materialism.  .  .  . 
We  have  been  too  hasty  in  proclaiming  our  knowledge  of  the  ultimate, 
simply  because  some  have  pricked  the  surface  of  cosmos  and  found  a 
thread  of  fact  in  Evolution.  .  .  .  The  evil  effects  of  intemperance  are 
depicted  in  a  manner  so  far  from  conventional,  that  tho.se  who  have  im- 
agined that  nothing  new  could  be  said  upon  the  subject  will  be  agreeably 
surprised. 

With  thoughtful  attention  most  readers  of  this  remarkable  book  will 
certainly  conclude  with  us  that  by  Carlyle's  standard  the  author  is  a  poet, 
a  seer,  and  a  thinker.  To  say  that  it  is  one  of  the  strangest  books  of  the 
The  Enquirer,  cin-  century  is  to  put  it  mildly.  In  uniqueness  of  subject, 
weirdne.ss  of  character,  and  mysticism  of  plot,  it  stands 
peerless.  Readers  of  Goethe  will  frequently  see  in  it  points  suggestive  of 
Das  IMahrchen  and  Fau.st.  vSuperficialh-  it  resembles  in  .some  degree  Jules 
Verne's  Journey  to  the  Center  of  the  Earth;  but  the  plot  and  execution  of 
the  Frenchman's  tale  are  tame  and  commonplace  beside  it.     The  scientific 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  377 

part  of  Etidorhpa  is  presented  by  a  master  hand,  himself  an  original  dis- 
coverer in  the  domains  invaded. 

The  author  of  Etidorhpa  nowhere  makes  so  heavy  a  draft  on  human 
credulity  as  do  the  modern  teachers  of  natural  philosophy.  In  each  suc- 
ceeding chapter  he  shows  that  every  change  in  any  series  of  relations  is 
followed  by  a  change  of  conditions  that  makes  possible  what  otherwise 
was  impossible.  .  .  .  When,  however,  amid  the  black  darkness  of  the 
cavern's  depths  a  zone  of  light  appears,  due  neither  to  combustion  nor 
the  sun,  we  are  likely  to  deem  it  absurd  or  incredible  unless  we  are 
familiar  with  the  late  experiments  of  Nicola  Tesla.  .  .  .  The  chapter 
on  "The  Food  of  Man  "  vividly  points  out  the  common  kinship  of  poisons 
and  foods.  It  is  a  beautiful  exposition  of  the  conservation  of  energy^, 
and  with  telling  force  proves  that  not  the  material,  but  the  immaterial, 
sustains  life.  .  .  .  Four  chapters  in  Etidorhpa  are  devoted  to  drunk- 
enness. The  first  is  on  the  "Drinks  of  Men,"  the  second  on  the  "Drunk- 
ard's Voice,"  the  third  on  the  "  Drunkard's  Den,"  and  the  fourth  on 
"  Among  the  Drunkards."  The  attempt  to  realize  the  pictures  they  evoke 
will  make  the  reader's  flesh  crawl,  and  if  he  is  alone  and  at  night,  will 
almost  cause  him  to  think  that  he  is  going  to  have  an  attack  of  delirium 
tremens. 

It  relates  to  a  journej^  made  bj-  the  old  man  under  the  guidance  of  a 
peculiar  being  into  the  interior  of  the  earth.  The  incidents  of  this  jour- 
ney overshadow  anything  that  Verne  ever  wrote  in  his 
palmiest  days.  But  perhaps  the  most  singular  part  of 
it  is  that  they  are  all  based  on  scientific  grounds.  Dr.  L,loyd,  the  author 
of  the  volume,  is  one  of  the  deepest  students,  and  is  well  known  as  a 
profound  writer  on  subjects  pertaining  to  his  profession,  as  well  as  one 
who  has  taken  much  pains  in  stud3-ing  the  occult  sciences.  .  .  .  The 
book  is  a  very  pleasant  one  to  read,  a  little  redundant  at  times,  but  full 
of  information.  .  .  .  Readers  who  succeed  in  securing  it  will  be  very 
lucky  indeed. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  of  this  centurj'.  The 
author,  who  is  one  of  the  best  known  American  chemists,  has  combined, 
in  a  very  successful  manner,  the  strange  story  of  a  journey  through  the 
earth  with  theories  on  sunshine,  gravitation,  energy,  and  Montreal  Pharma- 
other  questions  now  agitating  the  scientific  world.  .  .  .  "uticai  Journal. 
But  the  climax  is  the  relation  of  the  Drunkard's  Dream,  which  equals  in 
parts  the  Inferno  of  Dante,  and  as  a  practical  temperance  sermon  sur- 
passes anything  we  have  j-et  seen. 

Space  forbids  the  enumeration  of  any  more  of  the  details  of  the 
work,  but  taken  altogether  it  will  give  Professor  Lloyd  a  high  .standing 
as  a  writer,  although   already  well  known  as  a  chemist   and  pharmacist 


378  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

and  a  voluminous  writer  on  his  specialties.  In  Etidorhpa  he  has  under- 
taken a  work  which  might  be  classed  as  literary,  pure  and  simple,  and  has 
made  a  striking  success  considered  from  that  point  of  view  alone,  without 
taking  into  consideration  the  many  scientific  theories  enunciated  and 
discussed. 

The  work  viewed  from  a  mechanical  standpoint  is  one  of  the  finest 
specimens  of  the  "art  preservative"  we  have  ever  seen.  The  paper,  print- 
ing, engraving,  and  binding  are  all  in  the  highest  style  of  art. 

In  your  issue  of  October  23d,  I  noticed  a  communication  from  Student, 
asking  for  confirmatory  evidence  with  regard  to  some  of  the  novel  and 
somewhat  startling  statements  occurring  in  that  unique  and  fascinating 
Professor  T.  H.  Nor-  work,  Etidorhpa,  the  appearance  of  which  is  one  of  the 
ton,  in  the  Times-  literarj-  sensations  of  Cincinnati.  Like  your  corre- 
star.  Cincinnati.  spondent,  I  was  tempted,  when  reading  the  book,  to 
seriously  doubt  the  correctness  of  the  statements  adduced,  more  particu- 
larly those  of  a  scientific  nature. 

The  test  of  actual  experiment,  however,  whenever  applied,  showed 
conclusively  that  the  gifted  author  of  Etidorhpa  was  not  drawing  upon 
his  imagination,  but  had  introduced  into  his  narrative  actual  facts,  easil}' 
susceptible  of  practical  demonstration.     .     .     . 

There  can  be  no  question  concerning  the  scientific  correctness  of  the 
experiments  so  aptly  introduced  into  the  pages  of  Etidorhpa. 

In  regard  to  a  commercial  edition  of  Etidorhpa,  we  think  it  a  posi- 
tive wrong  to  thousands   of  readers,  and  to   the  literarj-  world  at  large, 
Chicago  Medical        that  such  an  edition  is  not  now  in  preparation.     We  are 
Times.  confident  if  all  those  who  are  the  possessors  of  a  copy 

will  write  to  Professor  Lloyd  a  personal  letter  at  once,  and  urge  upon 
him  the  necessity  of  such  an  edition,  he  will  be  persuaded  to  carry  out 
such  requests  from  his  friends. 

There  is  a  mystery  about  the  title  and  contents  of  this  book  that  in- 
tensifies the  curiosit}-,  more  especially  if  the  reader  is  interested  in  scien- 
tific matters.  The  whole  scope  and  plan  of  the  work  is  original,  and  the 
Popular  Science  charm  and  excitement  of  adventure,  with  a  little  romance 
News,  New  York,  ^^^^j  scientific  coutroversj",  gives  the  work  a  glow  of  en- 
thusiasm and  increases  interest.  It  is  scientific  fiction  with  bold  theories, 
interesting  and  ingenious  speculations  in  regard  to  the  inside  of  the 
world  and  our  relations  to  it.     .     .     . 

The  descriptions  are  vivid  and  realistic,  the  stj-le  simple  and  plain, 
while  the  interest  is  kept  up  and  increases  from  the  beginning.  Some 
passages  are  humorous;  others  strong  and  pathetic.  The  illustrations 
are  unusually  attractive,  and  add  much  to  the  value  and  interest  of  the 
work. 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  379 

It  is  so  in  the  book  which  I  am  beginning  to  review.  It  is  called 
Etidorhpa,  and  has  for  its  author — or  editor — Professor  John  Uri  Lloyd, 
of  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  If  any  man  can  tell  whether  it  is  of  earth  or  heaven, 
he  can  do  more  than  this  writer  can.  I  have  only  read  The  New  Bohemian, 
it  twice,  and  skimmed  it  the  third  time,  and  after  the  Cincinnati. 
cursory  inspection  which  this  review  will  demand — but  which  will  be  con- 
fined mainly  to  the  passages  I  have  marked  and  annotated — I  hope  to 
really  and  truly  read  it.  It  is  a  fascinating  novel  to  the  unlearned,  a 
food  for  thought  to  the  chemist,  a  subject  of  discussion  to  the  philosopher, 
a  stumbling-block  to  the  atheist,  a  help  to  faith,  a  guide  to  honest  investi- 
gation. ...  In  the  lines  it  is  the  most  characteristic  book  of  the 
century :  between  the  lines  it  may  rank  with  Basil  Valentine  and  Albert 
Pike.  Scott,  Byron,  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Keats,  and  Tennyson  have  played 
like  sunbeams  on  the  waters  of  our  century — this  book  will  be  the  nest- 
egg  for  the  next.     .     .     . 

Professor  Lloyd  himself  is  a  strict  scientist,  and  an  exact  writer  of 
more  than  national  renown.  That  he  should  have  given  to  the  world  such 
a  book  shows  that  the  dreams  of  scientists  in  one  century  may  easily  be- 
come the  exact  facts  of  science  in  the  next.  Paracelsus  was  a  quack,  and 
Roger  Bacon  was  a  magician,  but  to-day  laudanum  relieves  the  pain 
which  gunpowder  brings  to  the  suffering  soldier.  Galvanism  was  a  specu- 
lation ;  the  telephone  is  a  domestic  implement  almost  as  common  as  the 
skillet.  The  scientists,  falsely  so  called,  ridiculed  Mesmer,  but  rush  head- 
long into  print  now  trying  to  prove  what  they  think  they  know  about 
hypnotism. 

Vorliegendes  Werk  ist  eins  von  denen,  deren  Beurtheilung  ebenso  mit 
Recht  giinstig,  wie  ungiinstig  sich  gestalten  kann — je  nach  dem  Stand- 
punkte,  den  man  bei  der  Beurtheilung  einnimmt.  Messen  wir  es  mit  dem 
Maasse  der  materialistischen  Philosophic,  dann  ist  das  oeutsch-Amerika- 
Werk  ein  Konglomerat  von  leeren  Hirngespinnsten,  nische  Apothei^er- 
legen  wir  aber  der  Beurtheilung  den  INIaassstab  des  Zeitung,  New  York. 
Hegelianischen  Idealismus  unter,  dann  entfaltet  sich  vor  uns  eine  Fiille 
der  prachtigsten  phantasiereichsten  Gedanken,  welche  an  manchen  Stel- 
len  des  Buches  durch  ihre  Originalitat  gerade  verbliifFend  wirken.  .  .  . 
Fiir  einen  Roman  enthalt  es  zu  viel  philosophisch-wissenschaftliche  Prob- 
leme,  denen  ganze  Kapitel  gewidmet  werden,  fiir  ein  wissenschaftliches 
Werk  aber  ist  es  zu  phantasiereich  und  es  mangelt  ihm  an  der  zur  Be- 
handlung  philosophischer  Themata  nbthigen  kiihlen  Ruhe.  Fiir  den 
gebildeten  Laien  ist  das  Werk  eine  hochinteressante  lehrreiche  LektUre — 
fiir  den  Mann  der  Wissenschaft  ein  anregender,  angenehmer  Zeitvertreib. 
Was  wir  in  dem  Werke  bewundern,  das  ist  die  hohe  Eleganz  der  Sprache, 
die  Scharfe  der  Gedanken  und  die  Meisterschaft,  mit  welcher  der  Ver- 
fasser    die    divergirendsten    Begriffe    in    Einklang   zu    bringen  versteht. 


380  REVIEWS  U1-'  KTIDORHPA. 

Diese  ]\Ieisterschaft  geht  so  weit,  dass  durch  sie  oft  der  Leser  so  verblufft 
wird,  dass  er  an  manchen  Stellen  die  falsche  Praniisse  nicht  beachtet  hat 
und  iiur  den  auf  ihr  aufgebauten  richtigen  Schluss  bewundert.  Beson- 
dere  Anerkennung  verdienen  ausserdem  die  reichen,  meisterhaft  durch- 
gefiihrten  Photogravuren,  mit  denen  das  Werk  illustrirt  wird — das  Bild 
der  Etidorhpa  (Aphrodite)  ist  ein  vollendetes  Kunstwerk — wie  auch  die 
ganze,  beinahe  verschwenderisch  reiche  und  elegante  Ausstattung  des 
Buches. 

Professor  John  Uri  Lloyd  has  written  a  strange  book.  It  is  strange, 
not  because  its  author  is  eccentric  (except  in  so  far  as  all  geniuses  are 
eccentric),  but  because  of  its  inharmony  in  relation  to  generally-accepted 
The  Eclectic  Medical  doctrines  and  philosophies.  It  is  more  than  strange — 
Gleaner,  Cincinnati.  [^  [q  unique.  Not  the  latter  in  that  trite,  abused  sense 
so  patronized  by  popular  reviewers,  but  in  its  true,  intrinsic  ownness  of 
significance.  It  is  more  than  unique — it  is  wonderful.  It  is  that,  be- 
cause full  of  fact  wonders.  It  is  more  than  wonderful — it  is  glorious. 
Glorious  with  dictional  beauties,  dazzling  thought-bursts,  mighty  scien- 
tific revelations,  mystic  charm,  awesome  occultism,  weird  enchantment, 
refined  idealism,  metaphysical  atticism,  and  spiritual  sweetness.     .     .     . 

A  remarkable  quality  of  the  book,  as  a  whole,  is  its  enigmatical  effect 
as  related  to  purpose  and  mission ;  there  are  at  least  half  as  many  dif- 
ferent theories  in  reference  to  this  as  the  book  has  readers.  The  wonder 
of  this  is  many  times  multiplied  under  the  fact-pressure  that  there  are 
scores  of  reasons  why  it  would  have  been  a  crime  not  to  have  given  this 
great  mine  of  truth  and  beauty  to  the  world ....  There  ma}-  be  a 
class  (however  small)  of  men  in  the  world  to  whom  Etidorhpa  will  be 
neither  a  puzzle  nor  a  surprise.     Who  shall  dare  to  deny  this  ?     .     .     . 

Whatever  mysterious  doubts  maj'  linger  in  the  reader's  mind  after 
studying  the  book,  he  will  ever  after  carry  in  his  consciousness  fragrant 
memories  of  its  marvelous  revelations,  gorgeous  imageries  and  transport- 
ing dream-flights.     .     .     . 

Naked  science  is  the  cold-fact  part  of  God.  Whence  it  necessarily 
happens  that  the  reader  of  Etidorhpa  is  frequently  taken  into  the  chill 
realm  of  hard  exactitude,  and  into  blood-freezing  thought-regions,  where 
his  soul  is  congealed  by  horrent  rigor,  or  drenched  in  uncann}-  mj'stery. 
He  will  be  thrown  alternately  into  "eerie  swithers  "  and  ecstatic  wonder. 
He  will  be  driven  to  recognize  the  identity  of  the  real  and  ideal,  of  truth 
and  fiction,  of  the  possible  and  impossible.  Finally,  according  as  he  is 
impressionable  or  not,  he  may  simultaneously  wish  he  were  dead,  and 
pray  to  never  die.  This  is  not  enthusiastic  extravagance,  for  there  is  a 
spirit  about  the  book  which,  in  instances,  may  call  np  a  mental  ten- 
sion, and  awesome  uncertainty,  which  is  not  easily  compatible  with 
sanity. 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  381 

Without  inculcating  any  particular  form  of  theologj^  the  book  is  es- 
sentially and  intensely  religious.  If  it  does  not  coddle  any  of  the  petty 
isms  of  regulation  theology,  it  opposes  atheism  with  all  the  force  of 
masterly  argument.  Indeed,  it  shrinks  so  from  irreligious  contemplation 
that  it  is  scarcely  charitable  toward  honest  agnosticism.  If  this  is  a 
blemish,  it  is  probably  about  the  only  one  in  the  book. 

If  the  mysterious  visitor,  "  I-Am-The-Man,"  wrote  the  original  nar- 
rative, and  lylewellen  Drury  the  remaining  connecting  parts,  it  is  certain 
that  they  were  as  forceful  and  elegant  writers  as  is  Professor  Lloyd  him- 
self. This  circumstance  carries  with  it  a  weighty  significance,  since  only 
the  fewest  of  men  can  equal  the  Professor  with  the  pen.  Putting  this 
and  that  and  the  other  together,  the  conclusion  seems  irresistible  that 
John  Uri  Lloyd  conceived  and  wrote  the  whole  thing.  His  willingness  to 
sacrifice  his  personality,  under  a  conviction  that  possible  good  would 
accrue  from  it,  comoorts  precisely  with  the  self-forgetfulness  of  his 
nature.  Nice  and  artistic,  therefore,  as  his  intricate  ruse  to  cover  his 
tracks  is,  it  will  hardly  fool  those  who  know  him  best.     .     .     . 

Professor  Lloyd's  literary  method  is  distinct  and  pronounced.  It  is 
not  indistinguishable  from  the  literary  outputs  of  hack  literature,  for  it 
has  character,  individuality,  peculiarity  of  excellence.  This  peculiarity 
depends  upon  tidiness,  clean-cutness,  freshness,  intensity,  depth,  and 
warmth.  Always  on  a  high  plane  of  strength  and  elegance,  he  occasion- 
ally bursts  into  a  very  conflagration  of  dictional  magnificence.  The  dis- 
criminating reader  of  Etidorhpa  will  indorse  every  word  of  this. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamed  of  in 
jour  philosophy."  With  this  speech  of  Hamlet  addressed  to  Horatio 
closes  the  last  chapter  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  books  of  the  day ; 
a  book  like  to  nothing  ever  before  seen ;  a  book  in  which  The  Western  Drug- 
are  blended,  in  a  harmonious  whole,  romance,  exact  8:«st,  Chicago, 
science,  alchemy,  poetry,  esoterism,  metaphysics,  moral  teachings,  and 
bold  speculation.  .  .  .  The  attentive  reader  will  discover  that  through 
it  all  runs  a  cry,  as  it  were,  for  absolute  freedom  of  thought  in  the  realms 
of  science,  even  as  science  has  demanded  this  birthright  of  every  man 
for  itself;  yes,  the  book  seems  as  a  protest,  sometimes  finding  expression 
in  deep  irony,  against  scientific  dogmatism  and  intolerance,  now  as  cruel 
as  ever  it  was  when  practiced  in  the  name  of  religion. 

We  find  ourselves  wrapped  up  in  theosophical  theories  and  specula- 
tions in  occultism.  The  most  cherished  dogmas  of  science  are  brushed 
aside,  to  be  supplanted  bj-  others  supported  bj-  arguments  ofttimes  seem- 
ingly irrefutable.  But,  with  closest  attention,  it  is  not  always  possible  to 
dissociate  wnth  certainty  fancy,  scientific  conviction,  and  mere  specula- 
tion. Mr.  Lloyd  is  full  well  known  as  a  careful  investigator,  student,  and 
of  philosophical  bent  of  mind,  but  his  friends  scarce  have  considered  him 


382  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

an  adept  in  occultism.    Yet  this  is  what  Etidorhpa,  the  End  of  the  Earth, 
seems  to  disclose. 

Materialism  is  attacked  everj-where  and  opposed  by  idealism. 
"  A  miracle  ceases  to  be  a  miracle  when  we  understand  the  scientific  cause 
underlying  the  wonder ;  occultism  is  natural,  for  if  there  be  occult  phe- 
nomena they  must  be  governed  bj'  natural  law;  mystery  is  not  mystery-  if 
the  veil  of  ignorance  that  envelops  the  investigator  is  lifted." 

Like  the  unwilling  investigator,  we  are  led  through  the  mysterious 
labyrinths  of  the  earth's  interior  and  seem  to  behold  with  our  own  eyes 
what  he  sees,  and  with  our  own  minds  seem  to  argue  with  the  ej-eless 
guide  of  the  nether  world  the  questions  concerning  life  and  death,  natural 
laws  and  miracles,  matter  and  soul,  time  and  eternity,  and  God.     .     .     . 

In  a  chapter  designed  to  illustrate,  as  one  point,  the  wanderings,  mis- 
takes, and  distractions  of  science-workers,  the  reader  is  led  to  an  experi- 
ment which  is  very  impressive.  In  a  note  the  author  disclaims  origi- 
nality therefor,  and  as  if  to  criticise  some  results  in  science-conclusions, 
artfully  claims  that  his  own  brain  is  seen,  when,  as  Professor  Lloyd 
knows  full  well,  the  reasonable  conclusion  is  that  it  is  the  retina  one 
perceives.     . 

Llewellyn  Drury,  while  listening  to  the  reading  of  the  manuscript  of 
his  mysterious  visitor  of  the  nocturnal  hours,  frequently  intercedes  with 
objections,  and  on  several  occasions  seeks  to  fortify  himself  by  obtaining 
information  from  noted  local  scientists.  One  of  these  is  Professor  Daniel 
Vaughn,  a  profound  scholar,  who,  unappreciated  by  his  townsmen,  finally 
died  of  hunger  and  privation.  The  chapter  detailing  the  interview  with 
this  man  is  one  of  the  grandest  in  the  book,  and  must  be  read  in  its  en- 
tirety to  be  appreciated.  .  .  .  The  soliloquy  now  following  is  beautiful 
beyond  compare  and  is  reluctantly  omitted.  As  the  imponderable  forces 
as  well  as  matter  are  merely  disturbances  of  pure  energy,  so  is  life  like- 
wise. Organic  life  is  merely  "  sun,shine"  in  other  terms.  Food  is  not 
matter.  The  material  we  eat  is  not  our  food,  but  only  a  carrier  of  food.  .  .  . 

In  the  light  of  this  chapter  one  learns  better  to  grasp  the  language 
used  by  Mr.  Lloyd  in  his  address  delivered  at  the  last  meeting  of  the 
•  Ohio  Pharmaceutical  Association,  when  he  said  that  medicine  is  but  con- 
densed sunshine. 

We  now  come  to  the  consideration  of  a  chapter,  seemingly  interjected 
without  regard  to  continuity,  and  yet  so  intimately  interwoven  with  the 
story  as  to  appear  inseparable — the  sermon  on  the  vice  of  inebriety. 
Magnificent  is  the  only  fitting  descriptive  term.  If  other  portions  of  this 
scientific  romance  put  in  the  shade  the  best  productions  in  this  field  of 
men  like  Jules  Verne,  there  is  nothing  even  in  Dante's  Inferno  to  sur- 
pass the  description  here  of  a  drunkard's  hell,  while  the  wondrously 
beautiful  imagery  of  the  vision  of  Etidorhpa  is  the  embodiment  of  almost 
poetical  perfection.     Nothing  more  impressive  than  the  lesson  here  con- 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  383 

veyed  can  well  be  conceived.  This  chapter  should  be  translated  into 
every  known  tongue,  and  read  from  every  pulpit,  in  every  school-room, 
before  every  assemblage  of  men.  If  any  word  of  man  will  deter  any 
soul  from  giving  way  to  the  debauchery  of  drink,  it  is  this. 

Etidorhpa  is  a  novel  word,  with  which  the  reading  world  is  destined 
soon  to  become  familiar,  because  it  names  a  new  volume  which  nothing 
can  keep  from  being  read.  In  literature  Etidorhpa  is  a  none-such.  .  .  . 
If  the  scientific  researches  and  discoveries  of  this  book 
of  nature,  Etidorhpa,  lead  through  fields  of  fact  and  q.'  o*.^  j„  western 
fancy  to  the  Elohim  of  the  Hebrew  writings,  and  the  Christian  Advocate, 
Logos  of  the  Greek  writings,  it  will  lead  valuable  and  Cincinnati. 
useful  minds  to  safe  repose.  .  .  .  The  reading  of  Etidorhpa  has  given 
me  unspeakable  pleasure.  It  is  a  work  of  rare  genius.  Every  page  ex- 
cites a  cumulative  interest.  Herein  fragments  of  the  dissected  body  of 
truth  are  brought  together,  replaced,  and  the  restored  body  stands  erect 
and  living  before  each  beholder,  to  be  named  as  each  may  elect  for  him- 
self INIany  will  see  in  Etidorhpa  a  proof  of  the  teachings  of  Christ  as  to 
the  super-physical  world,  and  be  comforted.     .     .     . 

Man's  relations  to  the  super-physical  world  and  to  God  will  be  better 
understood  by  the  study  of  Etidorhpa ;  and  he  who  reads  Etidorhpa  once, 
will  turn  entranced  to  read  again.     .     .     . 

The  rare  and  elevated  personalitj'  Etidorhpa — Aphrodite — is  a  pleas- 
ing study.  The  speech  of  affection  is  the  grace  of  Etidorhpa's  lips,  and 
kindness  the  adornment  of  her  spirit;  the  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
thirteenth  chapter  of  First  Corinthians.  .  .  .  We  pass  each  successive 
page  that  tells  of  this  vision  with  reluctance,  to  pause  entranced  upon  the 
next,  and  admire  the  beautiful  face  of  a  conception  so  rich  and  rare,  so 
celestial  and  ennobling.  .  .  .  The  thinking"  public  is  to  be  congratu- 
lated on  the  appearance  of  Etidorhpa. 

We  question  whether  there  is  a  more  versatile  or  profound  writer 
in  the  field  of  pharmacy  than  Professor  John  Uri  Lloj'd.  Not  only  do 
his  past  writings  show  this,  but  his  recent  work,  Etidorhpa,  is  itself  an 
accurate  and  skillful  evidence  of  a  broad  mind  which  The  New  England 
does  not  lack  in  thoroughness.  .  .  .  There  is  a  pe-  Druggist.  Boston. 
culiar  attraction  about  this  work,  not  onlj^  in  the  title,  but  in  the  subject 
matter  and  the  style  of  the  book.  It  is  printed  upon  the  finest  of  book  paper 
and  abounds  in  half-tone  engravings,  cuts,  etc.  A  photogravure  of  Eti- 
dorhpa is  a  picture  fit  for  framing.  The  binding,  type,  etc.,  are  in  full 
keeping  with  the  book,  making  an  ornamental  volume  which  would  grace 
any  librar}-.  But  the  real  attraction  of  the  work  lies  in  its  contents, 
which  are  devoted  to  scientific  speculation  as  regards  the  true  nature  and 
origin  of  natural  forces.     .     . 


384  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

The  scientific  speculations  propounded  have  a  tinge  of  scientific  ag- 
nosticism in  them,  though  not  cynical,  and  the  author  evidentlj'  has  for 
one  object  the  calling  of  attention  to  the  limits  of  human  knowledge,  and 
of  its  possibilities.  .  .  .  Five  chapters  are  devoted  to  a  description  of 
the  temptation  and  abominations  of  drunkenness,  and  a  verj'  vivid  pic- 
ture of  its  results  is  given.  Man's  life  is  hindered,  not  supported,  by 
the  beating  of  his  heart,  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  the  breathing 
of  air.     .     .     .     The  possessors  of  the  volume  are   to  be  congratulated. 

Any  one  who  carefullj-  and  studiousl}-  reads  Etidorhpa  is  certain  to 
realize  that  the  author  is  an  earnest  and  assiduous  student  of  nature. 
Such  a  reader,  if  in  a  position  to  comprehend  the  expressions  found  be- 
Meyer  Brothers'  tween  the  lines,  will  also  be  impressed  with  the  author's 
Druggist,  St.  Louis,  ruling  passion,  which  is  to  encourage  all  who  are  willing 
to  study  for  themselves.  Etidorhpa  is  a  fascinating  story  for  all  who  en- 
joy such  entertainment.  But  this  is  not  all,  for  the  story  has  been  ren- 
dered substantial  b)'  the  author  weaving  in  much  scie.itific  information 
and  speculative  philosophy.  Professor  Lloyd  is  not  an  Oxford  graduate, 
with  a  cut-and-dried  mind  formed  after  models  made  bj'  others.  He  is, 
however,  a  polished  scholar,  educated  in  the  Universit}'  of  Nature.  It  is 
this  free  and  expansive  mind  that  embodies  in  Etidorhpa  so  man}'  prop- 
ositions worthy  the  careful  consideration  of  all  interested  in  the  accru- 
ment  of  human  knowledge. 

A  few  of  our  readers  maj'  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  author  is 
Professor  J.  U.  Lloyd,  our  well-known  American  pharmacist,  but  those 
who  know  him  well  feel  that  this  is  but  a  new  expression  from  an  active 
mind  that  has  long  held  their  attention. 

The  present  is  an  age  of  expectancy,  of  anticipation,  anu  of  proph- 
ecy ;  and  the  invention  or  discovery  or  production  that  occupies  the  at- 
tention of  the  busy  world,  as  it  rushes  on  its  self-observed  way,  for  more 

than  the  pa.ssine:  nine  days'  wonder,  must  needs  be  some- 
Tlie  Arena,  Boston.  t'  t,  j  ' 

thing  great  indeed.    Such  a  production  has  now  appeared 

in  the  literary  world  in  the  form  of  the  volume  entitled  Etidorhpa,  or  the 

End  of  the  Earth ;  the  very  title  of  which  is  so  striking  as  to  arrest  the 

attention  at  once. 

In  a  brief  review  it  is  difficult  to  give  any  conception  of  a  work 
which  is  at  the  same  time  scientific,  philosophical,  and  metaphj'sical,  5'et 
possessing  a  weird  charm  and  fascination  that  is  beyond  description.  .  .  . 

Scientific  problems  are  discussed  and  theories  are  advanced  in  re- 
gard to  questions  which  are  to-daj'  puzzling  and  bewildering  the  most 
learned  scientists ;  theories  which  at  first  sight  seem  to  be  but  the  wild 
imaginings  of  a  luxuriant  fancy,  but  which  are  seemingly  proved  in  the 
most  logical  and  scientific  way,  so   that  the   reader  readily  accepts  that 


REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA.  385 

which,  if  put  forth  in  a  dogmatic  and  authoritative  manner,  would  be 
scouted  by   all  as   opposed   to   reason  and   science  and  human  research. 

While  there  is  not  a  chapter  in  the  book  that  is  not  of  absorbing  inter- 
est, some  deserve  special  mention.  The  chapter  dealing  with  "  The  Food 
of  Man  "  is  most  admirable,  and  the  statement  is  made  that  food  and 
drink  are  not  matter,  only  "carriers  of  assimilable  bits  of  sunshine,"  the 
Sim  being  shown  to  be  the  great  life-giving  energy  of  the  universe.  The 
chapters  treating  on  drunkenness  and  the  drinks  of  man,  showing  the 
awful  power  of  the  temptation  to  drink  and  the  horrors  resulting  from 
indulgence,  burn  themselves  into  the  brain.  They  are  blood-curdling  as 
any  of  the  pictures  in  Dante's  Inferno.  The  description  of  the  meeting 
with  Etidorhpa,  or  the  vision  which  appears  to  the  Man-Who-Did-It  in 
the  Drunkard's  Den,  is  exquisite.     ... 

This  work  is  not  alone  a  literary  masterpiece  ;  it  is  a  prophecy,  a 
foreshadowing  of  the  development  to  which  the  race  may  yet  attain.    .    .    . 

This  volume  is  permeated  by  a  profoundly  religious  and  lofty  spirit- 
uality, and  pleads  that  science  give  room  for  the  development  of  the  soul 
of  man,  showing  that  science  and  true  religion  are  inseparable.  Step  by 
step,  in  perfect  gradation,  he  leads  up  to  the  conclusion  that  "  a  true 
study  of  science  is  a  study  of  God." 

Of  the  richness  of  imagery  and  wealth  of  imagination  displayed  in 
the  pages  of  Etidorhpa,  it  is  diflScult  to  give  any  idea.  The  work  is  so 
many-sided  that  it  will  appeal  to  all  classes,  and  be  a  favorite  with  all. 
The  scientist,  the  philosopher,  the  student,  the  lover  of  poetry,  romance, 
and  fiction,  will  drink  in  its  pages  with  delight,  and  find  infinite  food  for 
thought.  The  diversity  of  the  author's  style  is  such  that  he  has  been 
compared  by  various  critics  to  such  masters  as  Jules  Verne,  Dumas, 
Victor  Hugo,  Dante. 

It  is  a  work  that  should  have  the  widest  possible  circulation;  for, 
rightly  interpreted,  it  will  broaden  the  mind  and  stimulate  to  noble  en- 
deavor, abounding,  as  it  does,  in  thought  which  sings  to  the  spirit. 


Ever  since  modern  science  began  its  rapid  development  there  have 
been  those  who  claimed  that  it  would  one  day  furnish  the  chief  inspira- 
tion to  literature.  Most  of  those  who  have  theorized  on  the  subject  have 
written  on  science  and  poetry,  but  the  practical  attempts  pharmaceutical  Re- 
to  effect  a  combination  have  been  mainly  in  the  domain  view,  Milwaukee, 
of  fiction.  .  .  .  The  author  of  Etidorhpa  has  adopted  Wisconsin. 
this  literary-  form  to  put  forward,  not  definite  teachings,  but  unverified 
speculations,  many  of  which  are  on  the  borderland  between  physics  and 
metaphysics.  .  .  .  Viewed  simply  as  a  work  of  fiction,  Etidorhpa 
should  be  welcomed  by  those  who  believe  in  the  ultimate  union  of  science 
and  literature.     .     .     . 


386  REVIEWS  OF  ETIDORHPA. 

To  any  one  but  a  specialist  in  science,  the  most  interesting  sugges- 
tions are  those  of  a  metaphysical  nature.  The  idea  of  "  Eternity  with- 
out Time "  (chapter  Ixii)  is  a  startling  conception,  and  will  fascinate 
even  a  mind  that  at  once  rejects  it.  The  author  will,  doubtless,  feel  that 
he  has  accomplished  his  purpose  if  he  incites  his  readers  to  think  more 
deeply  on  the  questions  which  science  raises,  but  which  lie  outside  her 
narrowest  materialistic  confines.  ...  To  most  of  those  who  have 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  secure  a  copy  of  Etidorhpa  it  will  probably  prove 
an  inspiration. 

There  is  nothing  stranger  in  fiction  than  this  story,  and  no  more 
mysterious  being  than  "  The-Man-Who-Did-It."  The  transformations  of 
Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde — or  transmutations,  are  they? — are  tame  and 
The  Christian  Stand-  commonplace  in  comparison  with  that  of  which  "  The- 
ard,  Cincinnati.  Man-Wlio-Did-It "  is  the  subject.  .  .  .  The  author 
is  not  an  iconoclastic  Vandal  in  the  temple  of  science — as  a  good  many 
are  in  our  day — but  a  reverent  devotee,  pointing  out  failings  and  mon- 
strosities only  that  they  may  be  remedied.  He  sees  that  we  are  not  yet 
in  possession  of  the  whole  revelation  that  science  can  make,  and  that  we 
have  misread  much  of  what  we  have  received.  He  makes  it  plain  that 
in  the  domain  of  science  it  is  not  merely  the  unexpected,  but  the  incred- 
ible, which  is  happening  continually.     .     .     . 

The  story  proceeds  upon  the  theory  that  the  human  mind  has  capa- 
bilities of  which  it  is  not  yet  conscious,  and  that  the  strange  phenomena 
now  made  so  much  use  of,  and  often  such  bad  use  of,  by  occultists,  will 
some  time  be  shown  to  proceed  from  natural  laws  not  now  understood. 

There  is  nothing  incredible  in  this.  In  all  ages  the  unexplainable 
phenomena  have  been  miraculous;  the  explainable,  natural.  The  domain 
of  the  natural  has  been  con.stantly  broadening;  and  we  suspect  that,  if  a 
man  could  only  see  how  it  is  done,  he  would  see  that  the  most  miraculous 
thing  would  appear  natural ;  that  the  manifestation  of  God  in  the  flesh, 
though  a  great  "  m^-stery,"  is  not  out  of  nature ;  and  that  God  himself  is 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  universe. 

In  reading  Etidorhpa,  the  man  of  scientific  bent  will  be  interested 
and  charmed  with  the  curious  and  instructive  facts  and  experiments;  the 
lovers  of  romantic  adventure  will  find  a  story  to  their  liking,  and  the  like 
of  which  they  never  read  before ;  the  moralist  will  find  in  the  revelations 
of  the  deep  damnation  of  drunkenness,  and  the  equally'  skillful  revelation 
of  the  scope  and  office  of  love  incarnate,  or  rather  symboled  in  Etidorhpa, 
that  which  will  challenge  his  admiration  and  .sympathy.  There  are  many 
passages  of  fine  and  forceful  writing, — Daniel  Vaughn's  soliloquy  on  grav- 
itation ;  the  disquisition  on  drunkenness,  on  love,  on  eternity. 

All  in  all,  Etidorhpa  is  a  book  S7d  generis  et  suce,  speciei  so  far  as  we 
know ;  a  book  to  stir  the  pulse,  stir  the  brain,  and  stir  the  heart. 


